


Couldn't Be Happier

by LaLicorneRose



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Dark Magic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Alteration, Multi, Multiple Relationships, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Slow Burn, everything you might ever want all in one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2020-10-06 20:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 71,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20513174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLicorneRose/pseuds/LaLicorneRose
Summary: Faustus has placed Zelda under the Caligari spell which makes her inexplicably chipper and ridiculously subservient; only something has happened to her before she agreed to this powerfully numb marriage.Were those Lilith's lips that had kissed her...or the schoolmarm Mary Wardwell? Can everyone work out what has happened in the aftermath of the collapse of Hell as they know it?





	1. Chapter 1

She awoke feeling nothing.

There was a dull ache in her right ribcage. A slight pain in her skull, her wrists seemed weak. Yet these pains were all so distant, as if they were in someone else’s body and she was as good as new. She smiled, stretched out in the decadent black silk sheets that smelled of aftershave and sex. Her hair was a mess atop her head, her body naked as it was often when she awoke in the mornings and there was a smile on her face. She could feel the smile but was unable to control it.

She could hear him in the bathroom. Humming something to himself, more than likely shaving. Instinctively she stood from the bed, knowing that it must be late, that he must need his coffee.

She pulled the robe about her body, not securing the silky material so that he could see her body as she knew he liked.

The motions were methodical, mindless. The coffee was brewed, the steam came off the machine and she placed two slices of toast obediently into the toaster.

“Ah, my beautiful Zelda.” His arm caught her from behind, pulled her close. She felt a tightness in her body but had no mind to register it as unpleasant. “You know just how to serve me.”

“Yes, Faustus.” She agreed.

His hand clasped tighter about her. “The toast is burning.”

She tried to reach for the toaster but he held her tighter. “Yes, of course.”

“What’d I tell you, Zeldie, about my breakfast?” His voice was close to her ear.

“You like two slices of toast with jam and butter and an egg over....” The slap fell hard against her cheek. It should have stung, she should have felt tears welling in her eyes but she felt nothing. She looked at Faustus, looked at him and watched as his angry look morphed and molded and altered into a laugh. Laughter overtook him, shook his shoulders.

“Oh, Zelds.” He took her in his arms. Her body moved into his without thought. His hand moved over her breast between their bodies, slid down to press the sensitive place between her legs and she felt her body bending. “I think I’d rather have a bit of you for breakfast anyway.” And suddenly her body was twisted, his hand threaded tightly in her hair, the sound of his zipper, the feel of him between her legs. Though there was no feeling. No sensation. Dullness.

He finished, breathing deeply in her ear. “I must get to the Academy. Please expect special guests this evening. We will be visited by the Unholy Priest from Washington this evening. I do hope you’ll have everything in order.”

“Yes, Faustus.”

He left and she cleaned up after the breakfast that was not touched. She felt a pang in her chest as she opened the bin to toss the burnt toast away. She had done something wrong. This, yes. She had ruined his morning and she mustn’t do that.

Instinctively Zelda moved through the chambers, to the decadently gilded bathroom to draw herself a self-indulgent bath to wash her skin clean. The water sizzled as she sunk into its surface but she could not feel it scalding her.

“You should really be careful.” The voice was like a strange mirage, appearing out of nowhere yet somehow expected.

Zelda hummed to herself, let the water and soap roll down her skin. Her cheeks felt as if they should hurt from the permanent smile on her lips. She touched her face, found the lines fascinating.

“I hate seeing you like this.” Icy blue eyes appeared at her side and she merely turned away, closed her eyes to block out the sight before her. “I’d reverse it, only...it would be far worse for you, darling.” And those hands that she somehow recognized took the washcloth from her and ran it up her arm, behind her shoulders to that place behind her neck that she could never reach.

“He wouldn’t like that you’re here.” Zelda knew this much. But was she really even there?

“No, probably not.” She agreed, rubbing back down the porcelain skin of Zelda’s arms until she reached that spot about her wrist. She dropped the washcloth in the tub and took Zelda’s hand in her own, looking at her. Examining her cheek, where Zelda could feel a dull pain.

And Zelda felt that she should be ashamed, perhaps she should stop smiling and acknowledge the bruises that had formed. Only she couldn’t seem to bring herself to do it. She could see the worry furrowing her present companion’s brow, the way her red fingers caressed the skin with care and concern.

“He shouldn’t do this to you.”

“I burned his toast.” Zelda reminded her companion – who may or may not have been there. She wasn’t sure if she was dreaming half the time – everything always seemed so hazy. She remembered burning the toast though.

“It doesn’t give him the right to do this to you.” Her red lips made contact with Zelda’s rose scented, purpled skin.

“Don’t…don’t do that.” Zelda felt something swirl up inside of her. Something that didn’t feel quite right.

Her invisible friend sighed and let Zelda’s hand fall back into the water, her lithe frame coming to rest at the side of the tub so that she could look at Zelda. “I hate what he’s done to you…and I know…I know it’s partially my fault.”

“Whatever do you mean? I’m the High Priestess now. I have all the power I could ever want. And Faustus adores me. He idolizes me. Have you seen the rows and rows of jewels and pearls and things that he brings to me? I’m like a princess…only of the High Priestess variety.” Her voice was so high. When had it gotten to be so high?

“You’re speaking nonsense, Zelda. You don’t care for him at all or Satan Forsaken jewelry.”

“Oh, but I do!” Zelda insisted. She felt a strange sensation race through her and suddenly she was looking right into those crystal-clear blue eyes of Mary Wardwell Née Lilith. Lilith, Lilith, Lilith. And she felt her blood boiling. The smile was gone from her lips and her cheeks and her wrists and her body hurt and Lilith was looking at her. “What the Heavens are you doing here?”

“I don’t like seeing you like this.” Lilith sat up on her knees, as if afraid that Zelda might run from her.

“You don’t very well get to decide what it is I do now. Now that you’ve had your fun with Adam…”

“And you had Faustus, my dear.” Lilith shot back.

Zelda huffed.

“Besides, Adam is dead. Satan killed him.” Lilith breathed, had wanted to tell Zelda of this unfortunate turn of events since last she was able to speak with the Spellman who had run from her grasps. Why was it that everyone was always running from her, being taken from her?

“Well…I’m certainly…well, I won’t say I’m glad to hear it.” Zelda sniffed, sunk down beneath the murky surface of the water, glad for its cover. Her body felt so raw, she felt uncomfortable, as if she wanted to cover herself up.

“Zelda, I don’t want him to hurt you like this.”

“I made my choice and so did you.” Yes, she deserved this. Didn’t she? She’d been so adamant about marrying Faustus, certainly this was right…

The space between her legs hurt. What in Satan’s name…the images ripped through her suddenly, abruptly and she felt as if she might be sick.

“Would you look at this?” Lilith reached into the tub and extracted Zelda’s arm, holding it up for her real eyes to see the bruise. “Is this what you think you deserve?”

Zelda pulled her hand away, willing herself not to wince from the pain of the motion. She refused to appear weak before Lilith. “It is of no concern to you.”

“I _am_concerned, Zelda.” Lilith insisted.

“Go away! I don’t trust you anymore than I trust him. But at least with him I know where I stand.”

“That’s pathetic.” Lilith huffed, standing from beside the tub to put distance between herself and Zelda. Because she did not want to admit the tears that stung at her eyes.

And then Zelda felt herself smiling again, that groggy, dreamlike feeling overtaking her. The bath had been far too long. She should be making herself useful. The chamber maid would be there soon. She should tidy things, she needed to arrange for the meal that evening. The Unholy Priest would expect a fine presentation and Zelda would give him just that.

Her fingers were pruning, she stood from the bath, glanced about the room to find herself alone. Hadn’t someone been there only moments before? Oh well.

She wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel and swept into the dark bed chamber, settling before her vanity. There was the lotion from France, the powder from Italy, the perfume from Spain, all the little gifts Faustus had bought her along the way. After nights when something unspeakable would happen between them (most of these nights were a blur to her, but she remembered the general feeling about them). And then the next day he would reward her with little trinkets, little exorbitant, expensive items. 

A part of her felt cheap as she applied the expensive cream from England about her eyes. As if she were a bought woman. He could do what he wanted so long as he made it up to her. There were the dresses, the shoes, the furs, the coats. The silk robe she’d slipped into.

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment as she brushed her hair, some sensation, some memory overtaking her.

That feeling, that feeling of lips against her wrist. Red lips.

Her eyes slid closed, the brush falling from her hands to bang against the floor.

She could feel the warmth of the cottage fireplace, the way those eyes had looked at her, the darkness reflected equally in both their gazes. How she’d known as their lips had come together, yet had been reluctant to accept that Mary Wardwell was not who she said she was. The frumpy schoolmarm had never been sexy and this Mary was sexy, sat Zelda on edge, kissed her in light, teasing fluttery kisses and she’d thought she might just explode.

The feeling overcame her, made her chest feel tight, her body hot and warm. Was she doing this to her? Was she still there?

Zelda’s eyes came flashing open and she couldn’t catch her breath for a moment. So, the knock at the door surprised her. She ducked down to find her hairbrush as Esmerelda opened the door because Zelda had been too slow to call out, to let her know that she was inside the room.

Esmerelda peered in. “Oh, sorry, Ma’am.”

“No, no.” Zelda was smiling again. “It’s quite alright. I just finished my bath. I’ll be out of here in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. We have a dinner to prepare. I do hope we can make something nice.” Zelda turned back to the mirror, her cheeks looking flushed yet happy.

Happy, yes. Wasn’t she just so unbelievably happy?


	2. Chapter 2

**Some time before...**

The crickets and katydids played their nightly symphony, a cacophony of sound, as Zelda sat listening. Listening and smoking on the porch in the crisp fall evening. The days were getting colder, slipping from her just like Sabrina was.

Slowly the girl was pushing her away from her, disobeying her at every turn. And now today, after Zelda had explicitly begged her not to get involved with this mortal exorcism, she had gone and done just that. 

And all because of that mousey Mrs. Wardwell.

Only she was hardly mousey anymore. She looked freshly blown from the salon, her lips fire engine red, her eyes unhidden from behind those glasses she always hid behind. Yes, something had changed in Mary Wardwell.

Zelda had become familiar with Ms. Wardwell long before Sabrina had gone to Baxter High. For Greendale was small enough that two people who lived there for any period of time might know of one another. Though it had only been during Sabrina’s studies that she had truly gotten to know the painfully shy woman.

Only, the woman who had come to them that afternoon for tea was not like the Mary Wardwell she had come to know. She no longer seemed like the woman whom she would practically miss standing there in the middle of the aisle at the local grocery store. The woman whom she would pass on the street and not realize she had walked past until she’d already walked by.

No, this Mary Wardwell had a certain confidence about her, a sly way she moved, a charmingly coy way of speaking. She was direct, forward, and very, very visible. Zelda had not missed her when she’d arrived on their front doorstep that afternoon wearing an impossibly tight blood red dress, with her usually pinned up hair perfectly curled and brushed out about her unhidden face, those lips painted red…Zelda had certainly _noticed _her.

But it all didn’t quite add up. Mary Wardwell was a witch in her own right? She had come from a neighboring Church of Night? The little Zelda now recollected about her did not seem to track. For she had seen Mary Wardwell coming from the town’s Catholic church after mass one Sunday morning. She remembered watching her as she’d solemnly left the building with that look of divine revelation, as if that Satanforsaken place had actually moved her.

If Mary Wardwell was truly a witch, why had she been at a Catholic mass?

Also, if she had been engaged to a mortal man, why would she have then fallen for Edward? The more Zelda ruminated on the tale she had been told that afternoon the more farcical it became. Had Mary enchanted both her and her sister in order to get Sabrina to perform that exorcism?

But to what end?

Who was this Mary Wardwell? She had a power about her that was intoxicating – so much so that Zelda had nearly been won over by her. It felt as if the magic of the afternoon had only just begun to fade – the excitement of the exorcism had distracted from the fact that Mary was different.

But Zelda prided herself on not missing things. She always had a keen sense about what was happening. Even if she wasn’t able to accurately name it at first, she would get to the bottom of it. And Ms. Wardwell was Sabrina’s teacher and self-professed protector. So as Sabrina’s true and rightful guardian, didn’t Zelda have a right to give Ms. Wardwell a little visit at her little cottage that Zelda happened to know she lived in. The old structure snuggled back in the woods of Greendale.

Zelda found herself smoking anxiously and driving through the dimly moonlit woods. The cottage appeared, smoke puffing dreamily from the chimney, the lights shining brightly through the front stain-glass windows. It looked so deceptively inviting.

Zelda had barely raised her hand to knock when the door flung itself open and Mary appeared in a black robe that slid open just a bit too revealingly in the front and Zelda’s eyes traveled accidentally to the shockingly exposed skin. That hair was a tangle of curls, Mary’s eyes were hooded, but intrigued.

“Zelda Spellman. To what do I owe this delightful nighttime visit?” Mary had the decency to pull her robe tighter about herself.

“I, uh…” Zelda felt her cheeks warming. It must be the warm, inviting fire that crackled behind Mary.

“Please, come in.” Mary pushed the door open with her hip and invited Zelda in as if she had been expecting her this whole time.

Zelda felt as if she were intruding. She hadn’t meant for this to be a social call, she’d only wanted to perhaps threaten Mary, to let her know that _she_, herself was in charge of Sabrina and that Mary needn’t get so involved, be so concerned about her. And this possessive need had absolutely _nothing _to do with the fact that Zelda had watched Sabrina run to Mary instead of _her _one too many times in the past few months. And a certain part of her was loathe to admit that perhaps she was _jealous _of this woman.

But as she stepped inside and felt the air in the room, the slight scent of cloves and cinnamon and burning wood, she felt relaxed and content. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re absolutely not intruding.” Mary smiled prettily. “Would you like some tea? I was just making a fresh pot. I think I might have some almond cookies…oh, please sit down.” Mary was ushering her to the chair beside the fire, was already darting around the corner to retrieve the tea whether Zelda wanted it or not. “Whatever brings you here?” She called from what Zelda presumed was the kitchen.

“I…” well now Zelda couldn’t be _upset _with her when she was rummaging about to make her tea and being the perfect hostess.

Mary appeared again with a tray that she settled atop a table between the chairs. She poured a strong, dark aromatic tea into each of the cups and placed a hard-almond cookie on the edge of the saucer. She handed it with a smile to Zelda. Her robe had come open slightly again. She did not seem to notice this. Her skin was delicately freckled.

Zelda looked away, to the fire. “I wanted to…well, I wanted to thank you for today. For helping Sabrina, though I must admit I am concerned about how she is handling things.”

“Yes, she did put herself in a rather tough situation. Going against the church in such a way is difficult, but I can tell she is a strong, hard-headed young thing.” Mary looked at Zelda, seemed to study her, holding her gaze. “She’s giving you a hard time, isn’t she?”

Zelda looked down so that she could settle the teacup back against the saucer. “She is growing and trying to understand herself. It’s only natural that she should question the way things are. But I am worried about her, yes. And as her guardian, I find that it is _my _responsibility to look out for her best interests. Even if they don’t seem in line with _her _interests.”

“Oh, my. I see where this is going.” Mary smiled again. “I do apologize for getting involved without asking your permission. I know that it went against your wishes for her to do an exorcism, but you must see that it meant a great deal to her. She loves her friends so much…she doesn’t want to see any of them suffer.” Her voice was sweet, sweet like honey and a Spring day.

“Yes, of course she loves her mortal friends. Though she must now focus on going to the Academy.”

“She will want to know that her mortal friends are taken care of, though.” Mary insisted.

Zelda looked Mary over. Her voice – it sounded unnatural. It sounded forced, as if she were feigning her concern.

In all the years that Zelda had been linked to the Academy she had never remembered seeing or hearing about any Mary Wardwells. There had never been someone with that name – and she _should _remember for when Edward was in charge he had been very involved with each and every student. If Mary’s story truly tracked then perhaps Edward had kept her a secret – for he would not want people to know that she was in love with him. He had been so devoted to his precious Diana.

“When did you meet Edward?”

Mary’s glance was unsteady for only a split second. “Why it was around the turn of the century. I believe when we truly met you were off in France. I remember him speaking of you very fondly, though our paths never crossed.”

“Were you at Sabrina’s birth?” Zelda settled the saucer atop the table.

“No,” Mary shook her head. “No, Edward did not want me to be mixed up in it all. He was afraid Diana would be jealous of me. It was only after Sabrina was born, before he decided to fly to the Anti-Pope, that he came to me and asked me to watch over her should anything happen. He knew that I would be far enough removed from the family – from who people suspected so I could be a secret observer of her life.”

Zelda’s brow knit. She wasn’t buying it. She _had _been in France at the turn of the century. How she remembered Gay Paris fondly. The men, the women, the nights, the pomp of it all… But she had kept in contact with Edward and he would have mentioned someone like Mary Wardwell…

“You were removed from your coven because you loved a mortal man?”

“Oh yes. That was completely unacceptable, as you know.”

“What happened to this mortal?”

Mary played with the edge of her robe. Her smile widened before her eyes drew downwards. “He died.”

Zelda pursed her lips. “I’m very sorry.”

Mary waved her hand. “Witches outlive the mortal. It was to be expected.”

“Yes, unfortunately.” Zelda brushed at her forehead. Still unsteady and uncertain about who this woman was before her. “Was he Catholic?”

“Hmm?” Mary hummed over her sip of tea.

“I saw you…once. Coming from a Catholic mass. It seems odd, doesn’t it, that you, a witch would be going to mass.”

Mary nodded. “Yes, I suppose it makes me feel closer to him. The church was a comfort to him so I allow myself to go now and then. To be comforted.”

Zelda narrowed her eyes.

Mary sipped her tea and smiled sweetly at her. “I can only imagine what you must think of me. Coming out of nowhere like I did. I don’t mean to threaten what you have with Sabrina. I know that you love her very much.”

“I do.” Zelda swallowed.

“She’s only growing into herself, Zelda. She’s not running away from you and I’m not trying to replace you.”

“You couldn’t possibly.” Zelda smiled then.

“No, of course not.” Mary agreed.

How Mary’s bright, clear blue eyes shown in the simmer of the firelit. Zelda picked up her tea again. She looked to the fireplace, her eyes happening to catch on the crooked cross hanging above it. That was quite odd for a witch to have such a symbol in her home.

“You miss him, terribly?” Zelda inquired.

Mary’s brow furrowed in confusion before she nodded in realization. “Yes. Yes, of course I do.” She bit into her almond cookie, her gaze unwavering from Zelda’s. “You know, we really should work together instead of against one another. After all, we both only care for Sabrina’s well-being.”

“You do, really?” Zelda settled back in her chair. Was the tea making her feel so comfortable? It was so rich with vanilla and spices. It made her feel mellow.

“Of course, I do.” Mary looked a bit hurt that Zelda should push her like this, to test her.

“It was a huge risk to do what you did this afternoon…there are consequences…”

“Of which I am aware.” Mary’s voice was no longer sweet like honey.

“Yet you chose to ignore them. It seems reckless to me.”

“You came to our aid, Zelda.” Mary purred her name. She felt warm beneath her collar, her finger went to pull the material of her dress from her neck. The room was warm.

“I _had_to. I couldn’t let that monster harm her. Or Hilda.” _Or you_.

Mary was smiling. “I would have never allowed it. Please believe me.”

Did Zelda believe her? She felt as if she did not, but the way she sat so confidently, the warmth of the room, the tea, the delicious almond cookie…she felt almost as if she were visiting a maternal figure – her Aunt Blossom perhaps. She had always been so warm and hospitable and there had been such a feeling of warmth in her home…yes, this cottage reminded her of Aunt Blossom. How she longed to have her aunt wrap her big arms about her and tell her that everything was okay.

“Zelda, are you warm?” Mary was asking with deep concern.

“No, I’m just fine.” Zelda insisted. “Perhaps…some water?”

“Of course!” Mary was on her feet and back in a matter of seconds with a glass of water which she handed to Zelda, their fingers brushing as she did so. Zelda drank as if she had not for days. She was warm. Mary was still standing before her, reached out to take the glass from her, her hand fell to Zelda’s forehead as if checking for a fever. “You feel quite warm, perhaps you should take off your…”

“No.” Zelda’s voice came fast and rough as she grasped at her collar.

Mary tried to hide her smile as she stepped away, moving back to her chair. “I didn’t mean anything…”

“I know.” Zelda spoke once she had regained her normal breathing. No one ever meant anything by their words with Zelda. She had grown used to being second rate, unloved and uncared for. It was not as if she were getting any younger. She could sense the lines running deeper in her face, the way it sagged now, the way her body did not move as it once had. She was no longer the youthful belle of the ball and people thought of her but usually as a one-off, accidentally.

No, she was reading too far into that even! Mary was certainly not…not precious Mary Wardwell, quiet, shy Ms. Wardwell.

Though those eyes looked so exquisite this evening without those dastardly glasses and the skin of her chest was so warm and inviting and it had been so long…so very long.

No, Mary wasn’t coming on to her. Zelda had arrived with a chip on her shoulder to berate Mary, not to seduce her. Not that she really could seduce her…it had been far too long for Zelda to remember how to behave in such situations.

“I’m sorry…I should probably be going.” Zelda rubbed at her forehead, knew that a cigarette would easily settle her nerves. She should escape in order to acquiesce to that need.

“Zelda, if I made you uncomfortable…”

“No, don’t be ridiculous.” Zelda tried to laugh.

“You must know that I admire you.” Mary twirled a strand of hair absently. As if she expected Zelda not to leave.

“Admire _me_? Whatever for?” Zelda shifted as if she might stand up, her eyes finally daring to meet Mary’s. There was something different in her eyes.

“For caring for Sabrina as you do. You must know that she loves and respects you very much and that is why she must come to me, you see. She doesn’t want to upset you.”

“But you needn’t try to indulge her.” Zelda felt better, safer talking about Sabrina.

“I will consult you from now on.” Mary looked very sincere in this. “Even if she doesn’t know, I will come to you first.”

Zelda nodded, her head spinning. “Thank you.” What was this cottage doing to her? She had such images of standing, of leaning down and pressing her lips to Mary’s.

So she stood up, feeling, thankfully, steady on her feet. She moved to the door, feeling Mary’s presence there behind her. A hand fell lightly against her arm. “Thank you for stopping by, Zelda.”

Zelda turned to face Mary who looked almost as shy and diffident as the old Mary Wardwell had. It was endearing.

“I, ah, don’t get many visitors out here. Yes, Sabrina stops by but…well you’re always welcome. I do hope we can work together. Instead of against one another.” Her voice was sugar sweet again, her eyes unable to look Zelda in the eyes as she spoke.

Zelda nodded wordlessly. Or had she said something in agreement? She wasn’t really sure. And then Mary was reaching for her, as if she wanted to hug her and she stepped dumbly into Mary’s embrace and Zelda thoughtlessly pressed their lips together into a crushing kiss.

“Oh.” She startled, stepped back and away from Mary. She had felt too comfortable, far, far too comfortable. She needed to leave. “I’m sorry.”

Mary stood there smiling at her evenly. “It’s quite alright, Zelda.”

“No, I don’t know what…I didn’t mean…Heavens.” Zelda gasped, her cheeks burning. She should turn and leave.

She turned and nearly ran into the door. Mary reached about her and opened the door carefully for her. “I’ll see you again soon.”

Zelda, mortified, escaped from the cottage. It was not until she was on the quiet, dark, back country road puffing away at her cigarette that she felt the blood rush back into her body.

Why ever had she kissed Mary Wardwell?

She would _not _be returning _soon_.


	3. Chapter 3

The fire blazed brightly in the dim chamber. His hand was warm, his eyes stared kindly down upon her where she knelt beside him.

There had always been great, great admiration for him. He held the most powerful of positions in the church – his word was the law and his greatness made her head spin. She had always revered him and now, now he was looking at her in that way which she had thought she had always wanted. Her fellow witches at the Academy would be green with envy if they knew just how tightly he was holding her hand, the way he was leaning down to her.

She reveled in the feel of his lips pressed to hers, knowing that she had won him over.

He was strong, strong enough to take her up in his arms, lifting her from the floor and then she felt her behind hit the desk, books and papers scattering, flying away. His hand was rough against her thigh, his fingernails long enough that she was certain he scratched her, that he might have drawn blood and she hissed, let her head fall back because it had been so long since someone had touched her like this and her body was sensitive. He was rough, he pawed at her with urgency whether she was truly ready for him or not.

There was not time to think, to slow him down and she seemed to respond to him. The mere idea that she, Zelda Spellman, could make Faustus Blackwood brim with desire and want made her open herself to him. For Constance Blackwood was a gorgeous, glorious woman who practically glowed in her current pregnant state. And Zelda felt she could not possibly compare to her radiant beauty – and yet having Faustus pressed to her, his fingers making quick work of her blouse so that he could suckle at her neck, his hand could grope her breast through her slowly falling undergarments – gave her quite the boost, the courage to open herself further to him. Satan, if only she could have the power and position that Constance already had – to be the High Priestess! 

And she knew she wanted him, for any comingling with the Father would bring her closer, wouldn’t it? Her fingers moved to his trousers, she could feel him pressing against her.

But he struck her hand away. “No, we’ll get to it when I very well want to.” He spoke harshly and Zelda felt her cheeks color at the shock of it. He was taking charge of the situation. He had her naked atop the table and he was between her legs, pulling her close to him so that he could press his mouth to her delicate flesh.

“Oh, Satan.” Zelda breathed, falling back against the desk, unable to support herself any longer. Her hands trailed absently over her burning nipples which stood at attention in the warm air of the room. If someone were to enter – one of those raving teachers who threw themselves shamelessly, wantonly at him. If they could see Zelda like this, naked and laid bare to Father Blackwood. What would they think?

She smiled to herself, delighted in the feel of the High Priest servicing her.

But then he was lifting her again, she felt her back slam, hard, into the bookshelf behind his desk. The pain shocked her at first, but then she saw him standing before her, his eyes wide and focused on her. She smiled through the discomfort, watched as he disrobed his upper half. She admired the chiseled curve of his chest, how strong he was as he advanced upon her. It was one simple motion and he had her hands pinned above her head, helpless. “You haven’t shown near enough penance for withholding this glorious body from your Father.”

Zelda lifted her chin, delighting in the compliment. “It’s yours for the taking, your Highness.”

Faustus’ eyebrow rose in amusement before he stepped away from her again and she found that her hands were bound by magic above her. And her body was weak, so very weak. She felt the moisture on her thighs. She twisted in frustrated ecstasy.

Faustus settled in the chair before her, a riding crop appearing in his hand, magicked to him from thin air. “You’ll do anything for me, won’t you Zelda?”

Zelda nodded, whimpering in want. He had begun. He needed to finish her.

The first flick of the whip perfectly against her left nipple shocked her. The pain seared in her chest, she felt tears welling in the corners of her eyes. But she only grew wetter.

The next flick landed on her right nipple.

Then she was pressed up against the wall and there was a battering of flicks against her bare behind. She pressed against the books before her, wanting, needing some kind of a release from this torture. “Faustus!” She called out.

And she felt him behind her, felt his nakedness as he put his arms about her, pressed his lips to her shoulder, hungrily. And she ground herself forward, searching for any kind of surface only to magically find herself face down on the desk, her cheek pressed uncomfortably against the wood surface. And he entered inside of her and she was ready, more than ready for him. Only there was nothing for her to press against. So it only served to frustrate her further with each thrust. Again and again, harder and rougher until he finally bore roughly down – crushing her face painfully against the desk with his hand - and held it. She felt him finish inside of her, his body wreathing in a sort of ecstasy.

And then he was stepping away from her, zipping his pants back up, reaching for his shirt.

And she couldn’t move, her body exhausted and red and sore and wanting.

“You’d better get yourself together, Zelda. I have a meeting very soon.” Faustus was nearly dressed again and she was still useless against the desk.

She stood, feeling exposed and vulnerable in her naked state. She could hardly bend over to pick up her corset to try and shield herself from Faustus, from whomever might accidentally wander into the chamber.

And suddenly Faustus was standing before her sweetly, helping her do herself back up. His eyes shown bright and warm and kind. “You’ve done a wonderful thing, Zelda. I hope you know this.”

She just nodded and let him piece her back together.

“I hope that we shall meet again. Soon. Very soon.”

And Zelda nodded again, a strange sensation settling in the pit of her stomach. It was as if he had injected some of his power deep inside of her and she was just delusional enough to think that if they were to continue on like this – and Satan knew she had needed this – then perhaps he would…he might just…

She had always had such dreams about becoming the High Priest. Childhood fantasies that she had never told anyone because a woman had never held such a role before – not alone anyway. They were the High Priestess in title but they were married to the High Priest, they did not serve as a High Priest did. And Zelda had always coveted the position, had dreamt of it, and being near to Faustus like this made the desire reignite inside of her.

“Yes.” Zelda found her voice. “Yes, I do certainly hope so.” And she turned to walk out of Father Blackwood’s office, only to find herself unsteady on her feet.

She returned home with a renewed sense of fervor, floating furtively past the kitchen where Hilda hummed to herself while she cooked. She ascended the stairs quietly in order to lock herself away in their shared bedroom so that she could feverishly touch herself as she had not done for so, so long. She was brought to her edge by her own hands. Again and again until she was raw and sleepy and sore.

* * *

Somewhere in her hazy conscious she heard the phone ringing.

She laid half-naked, draped across her bed, smoking a cigarette, hand tucked between her warm skin and the lacy band of her underwear. She had a sense that it was a call intended for her. She heard the footsteps as they ascended the stairs, the sound of Hilda’s voice calling out to her.

“Zelda, are you here? Zelds?”

She made little effort to cover herself up, hoping she might look more flushed with fever than sex.

Hilda opened the door and Zelda could feel her sister’s eyes widen at the sight of her. “Ze-Zelda, it’s Ms. Wardwell on the phone.”

The name sent a buzz through Zelda. Her body strangely tingled at the mention of Ms. Mary Wardwell. The memory of their last encounter played hazily out in Zelda’s sex-addled brain. She had kissed her. On the lips. And now she was calling.

“Zelda, are you coming down with the flu?” Hilda tried to reach for her forehead but she batted her sister’s hands away.

“No, no. I’m quite alright. I’ll just…I’ll get the phone. Here.” Zelda sat up and shooed Hilda away from her. Embarrassed to have been caught in her current state, not wanting Hilda to get too close, to smell what she had just done to herself.

Hilda frowned at her before turning to go.

Zelda waited to pick up the receiver until she knew that Hilda was on the stairs again.

“Ms. Wardwell. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” She hoped her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

“It’s about Sabrina. I have some…concerns.” Mary spoke calmly.

“Concerns?” Zelda’s midday sex-buzz died at the very mention of _her niece_and _concerns_.

“I’m afraid she’s gotten it into her head that she wants to perform an act of necromancy.”

“For Satan’s sake. She came to you about this? I explicitly told her that it was expressly forbidden to bring Tommy back from the dead!”

“Well, you did ask me to contact you should she ask me for anything…”

“You didn’t give her the means to actually do it, did you?”

“Well…” Ms. Wardwell’s voice lightened considerably.

“Why ever would you do that? What an idiotic thing of you to do. We have to stop her, we have to…” Zelda was at the edge of the bed, though her tired body groaned in protest at her attempt to jump up.

“Perhaps she needs to learn these lessons herself.”

Zelda huffed.

“I know that you’re only trying to protect her, Zelda. But she is becoming a witch, what we – what you want for her. And she must learn. You won’t be able to protect her forever.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Zelda sat up, aggravated. “I am her guardian and I must do as I see fit to protect her…”

“She has to learn on her own.”

“There is always a price, Ms. Wardwell. Certainly, you know this…she’s not a – she would never harm anyone…”

She could hear Ms. Wardwell humming on the other end of the phone. “Of course, she would never willfully harm a soul. That is why she wants to bring Tommy back. Because she cares about this Harvey Kinkle so dearly. I imagine you can understand what it is to feel so intensely for someone that you would commit such a daring act.”

“No,” Zelda shook her head. “No, I would never do something so reckless, so idiotic. Please, please tell me that she hasn’t done it. Why wouldn’t you have stopped her?”

“Because she needs to learn what it is to cross the line. We both know how this will play out. She doesn’t have the power or the knowledge to bring about a true resurrection. She will try her best, she will most likely succeed to some extent, but we need to let her learn.”

“Why? Why must _we_?” Zelda listened to what Ms. Wardwell was saying. This woman whom had appeared out of nowhere to suddenly dictate to Zelda what it was her niece should be doing with her life – what lessons she needed to learn. If it were up to Zelda, Sabrina would have simply signed the book on her birthday and perhaps she wouldn’t have been so caught up in this in between world, attempting such idiotic things as resurrecting a mortal.

“Zelda, I know that you love her very much and don’t want to see any harm come to her, but we both know that she is a special child. Born of a mortal and a warlock. This makes her an exception and we should have known that she would be torn between the two worlds. Zelda, let her try this. Perhaps once she is partially successful it will help to push her towards the Path of Night. Perhaps she will want to learn in order to protect her mortal friends more. You must let her do this.” Ms. Wardwell sounded so very persuasive.

Zelda found that these words made sense. The more Sabrina was drawn to the craft, the closer she might get to living fully as a witch – what Zelda had dreamed for her since she was a baby. The very reason she had refused to allow Diana’s family to take Sabrina. She had known that Sabrina could never be happy living her life as a mortal. At least not entirely.

Oh, if she could just begin again, lead Sabrina through this less painfully. “Well, why did you call me if you only want me to go along with it?” Zelda wished that Ms. Wardwell had not told her at all.

“I made a promise.” Ms. Wardwell’s voice was so very sincere in that moment. It caught Zelda off-guard. “I want you to know that you can trust me.”

Zelda felt something stir in the pit of her stomach. Could she trust her?

Later that evening as she held a crying Sabrina in her arms - as they sat rocking together on the porch, her heart expanding infinitely at the knowledge that Sabrina was allowing her to comfort her - she conceded that perhaps Ms. Mary Wardwell was right. Perhaps they needed to let Sabrina begin to fight her own battles.


	4. Chapter 4

Faustus left her, disappearing into the void, called off to the Academy for some important business, sated from their afternoon of debauchery.

Only Zelda still wreathed atop the mattress, feeling open and exposed and unsatisfied in a most frustrating way. It was as if Faustus wished to taunt and torment her, never caring whether she came to completion or not. He was able to magic her in any way he wished and she delighted in the pain, the torment of it, but she was never satisfied. It was never enough.

She blew a strand of strawberry blonde from her face, exhaustion weighing on her body. She was face down against the sheets, wondering if her hips would recover, if she would ever be able to move her legs again. She certainly could not use her arms to lift herself into any other position so she laid, defeated against the cooling surface of the mattress.

It was erotic. These stolen moments with Father Blackwood. She was certain he was much rougher, much more passionate with her than he ever was or had been with Lady Blackwood. Especially now in her pregnant state.

Only Zelda was sure that even outside her pregnancy Constance was never much for this level of domination, humiliation, pain. Zelda had once delighted in it - Faustus knew of this - but now as she laid atop the bed unable to move she wasn’t certain she could handle it anymore.

She felt a bit like a cheap, wanton whore. Giving herself without limit to Faustus.

There were footsteps in the corridor. She knew that would be Hilda. She’d know that the room had gone silent - for Zelda had hardly kept it secret, what it was she was doing in this room. Ambrose was away with Luke and Sabrina was at school. It wasn’t exactly like she needed to keep her voice down for her darling sister.

But now there was silence and Hilda’s footsteps coming closer. “Zelds?” Her voice was soft.

Zelda moaned, realizing her back was quite out of sorts. She was naked but she couldn’t even cover herself.

The door opened and she heard Hilda’s lithe footfalls. “Oh Zelda, darling.” Her sister hummed, concern laced in her tone and Zelda rolled her eyes.

She felt her sister’s hands - warm - on her back, in just the right place. The muscles responded to her touch, massaging out the kinks, sorting her out. And then Hilda helped her turn so that she could tuck her into the bed. “I’m going to get you a nice cup of tea and some warming pads. You’ll be right as new in no time.” Only there wasn’t a chipper edge to her caring tone.

And Zelda looked up into Hilda’s eyes and saw the disapproval and she hated being disapproved of by her sister. She was her elder sister and she should set the example of how things should be. And what it was she was doing with Faustus was shameful. Wasn’t it? When she was to be Night Mother to his two precious children? When she cared for Constance, whose health she worried for.

Hilda clasped Zelda’s hand. Sensing that her sister needed her reassurances. “In a way I’m happy for you but you must know, Zelds, that you’ve never needed him to make you powerful.” Hilda’s fingers brushed her hair from her sweaty forehead.

Those words hurt almost more than Hilda’s disapproval. “What if I’m not....as strong as everyone thinks I am?” Zelda’s voice was a scratchy whisper, her throat tight from Faustus’ strong grasp earlier.

Hilda’s lips turned down into a frown. “Darling, you’ve got more strength and will than the whole lot of us. Don’t you ever doubt that.” Hilda’s fingers traced over the bruising skin of Zelda’s neck and Zelda felt the burning, bruising sensation slow, the skin returning to its normal, un-inflamed state.

“I doubt it.” Zelda felt a stubborn tear role down her cheek.

Hilda wiped it away and leaned forward to kiss her sister. “Don’t.” She squeezed her hand and kissed it too. “I’ll be back with the tea.”

Zelda felt bereft upon Hilda’s exit. “Don’t you dare tell anyone....” she growled, finding her voice again.

Hilda chuckled. “Never, Zelda.” 

* * *

It should not have surprised her that she would see her at the school the evening of the conjured tornado.

The winds had picked up steadily throughout the afternoon, the distant sound of alarms reminding Zelda of her time spent in Italy before WWII had escalated and driven her back to America for safety. Those were some hauntingly terrible memories, some things she’d rather never see again and other things that had been made acceptable because the world was on edge. The things she had done, the people she had kept company with…

But this, this was only a tornado. Forged by her family’s hand.

And she was surprised to find that she had come to care about the mortals of Greendale. She wondered if it was a direct result of her niece who always seemed so preoccupied with saving them. Now she, too, wished to keep them out of harm’s way by protecting them from the Greendale Thirteen.

So it should have been of no surprise that as she helped escort people down the halls that smelled of teenaged hormones, bad cafeteria food, and dirty gym shoes, she happened to catch sight of Ms. Mary Wardwell whose body was encased in a most decadent leather jacket.

And she could see Principal Hawthorne practically drooling over the teacher. He was whispering something to her and Mary looked as if she might turn and slap him senseless. But Zelda could tell she restrained herself by keeping her back to him, her hand balled into a fist at her side, her eyes dead as she watched the mortals scurrying for cover.

Her red lips were pursed in possibly frustration and there was something thrilling about seeing her reaction to Principal Hawthorne. How he circled about her like a little puppy and she stood stoic and unaffected by him. Zelda’s eyebrow rose in amusement as she watched this play out before her – momentarily forgetting what it was she was there for.

And then Ms. Wardwell glanced at her, her face softening into a cunning little smile that Zelda found herself returning. And then Mary was walking away from Principal Hawthorne, moving stealthily forward and directly towards Zelda.

“Zelda Spellman. I didn’t realize there was a tornado in the forecast.” Ms. Wardwell spoke with a strangely knowing look sparkling in her eyes.

“There wasn’t.” Zelda found herself half-smirking, as if Mary Wardwell – the unassuming, mousey Mary Wardwell who was strangely no longer either of those things – could make her nervous. Ms. Wardwell’s mouth looked delectable in that shade of striking red.

Those red lips twitched up into a smile. “I do hope that you shall be able to protect us this evening. It seems like it’ll be a real _tempest_.” Mary whispered the last word.

Zelda felt her cheeks go bright red.

Silly. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

“Speaking of saving the town,” Zelda glanced about, having not seen Sabrina for the last hour. She had promised she would just go get Harvey and then meet back at the school. Only it was taking much longer than anticipated. “Have you seen Sabrina?”

Mary glanced about. “No, I thought she would be here.”

“She went to check on her precious Harvey.” Zelda rolled her eyes. What she wouldn’t give for a smoke. It was all too much, the Greendale Thirteen, Sabrina running about like a careless little thing, fighting her at every turn, forcing her into these impossible situations…

Zelda suddenly felt Mary’s hand on her arm and she glanced down to see where the red nails clasped about her black velvet coat. “I’m sure she’s on her way. You know how Sabrina is, always trying to save everyone.”

“But she musn’t get caught out in this _storm_.” Zelda’s brow furrowed.

And without thought Mary’s hand was clasping hers in reassurance, their fingers somehow easily folding together. “She’ll get here. Don’t you worry. I know it.” Mary whispered, so very near to Zelda. “She will do anything to save those she loves. And that includes herself.”

Zelda’s eyebrows rose in acquiescence. “The little idiot.” She breathed, looking back down the hallway, not willing to admit that she enjoyed having Mary Wardwell’s hand clasped so reassuringly in her own. Though it was certainly not the right time to be having any sort of _feelings_. Especially not _those_types of feelings.

And then she felt an arm on her shoulder and she turned, dropping Mary’s hand in the process.

It was Hilda, looking rather frantic. “Where’s Sabrina?”

“I haven’t a clue.” Zelda snapped.

“We have to find her.” Hilda clasped Zelda, pulling her away from Ms. Wardwell.

Zelda glanced back over her shoulder as her sister pushed her down the hall and she saw the briefest smile grace the Ms. Wardwell’s face. And there was a look in those crystal-clear blue eyes that told her not to worry – things were going to work out just fine.

It was as if they understood one another – they were in this together. Neither of them wanted any harm to befall Sabrina.

Mary had something up her sleeve, of this Zelda was certain.

And in that moment, that split second of a shared, lingering glance – Zelda trusted Mary Wardwell.

* * *

She felt her body lifted away from her family as they stood in the front hallway of Baxter High. Her vision blurred for a moment and she fought the sensation but it was stronger than her. It was only when Faustus’ face came into view that she realized where she was and what it was that had happened. She could feel Faustus’ strong arms about her, holding her in place as if she would run away from her responsibility as Night Mother.

The babies came quickly, swiftly as if they knew they were interrupting the chaos of the world around them. It would, of course, be that Faustus would have a girl first. Zelda had to think quickly on her feet – nearly missing the signs of life fading away from Constance. It was the boy that left Constance’s body on edge, the blood pouring forth with no end in sight.

“No, Constance, darling. Hold on.” Zelda willed her, trying every midwifery spell she knew of and none of them seemed capable of stopping the blood. It was as if the Dark Lord himself had willed her to birth these children and then die.

But it couldn’t be so. Zelda could not fall Faustus in two ways. First the girl and now Constance slipping away slowly. Zelda watched as her face paled, as her body convulsed from blood loss. “Protect…them…” Constance whispered through chapped, blue lips.

“Oh, Satan.” Zelda cried, feeling unwanted tears brimming in her eyes as she kept wiping at Constance’s brow with a cloth. The life slipped from her eyes. They turned black. Her body stilled. “No, no. No!” Zelda proclaimed angrily.

“Is she…?” Prudence was at her side with the second child in her arms. The boy. The boy who had done her in, as if he didn’t want a mother at all.

Zelda gasped, covered her face with her hand, bending over Constance’s body. She had died too soon. Zelda had been unfair to her. Had Zelda done this to her?

She had to collect herself, she had a terrible task at hand. She had to protect Faustus’ first born. Of this she seemed certain. He would not be pleased to find that he had a rightful female heir.

A sob escaped from her lips before she wiped at her eyes and sat up, moving away from Constance’s lifeless body. She covered her ceremoniously with a black sheet.

“We must not let Father Blackwood know of the girl.” Zelda wiped at her cheeks again, moving towards the basin where the helpless newborn moved about – this darling, beautiful child whom had just made a treacherous journey into the world. Her body was tired, unaccustomed to the world about her. Zelda would be damned if she let Faustus harm her. “We will tell him that he only had one child.”

Prudence was looking at Zelda, horror stricken.

“You must never speak a word of this.” Zelda collected the child up into her arms. “This is for her own good.” And she lifted her hand to hex Prudence into forgetting before she disappeared with the girl.


	5. Chapter 5

The smell of the newborn was intoxicating. Zelda had forgotten what it was to have a newborn again. Sabrina had been angelic, beautiful in every way. She had spent her every waking second with Sabrina when she had been a small, little thing.

It was always so interesting, this maternal instinct she had though she had never cared to have a child of her own. No, the universe seemed to send her other’s children to care for.

She laid atop the bed with the baby girl pressed against her bare chest. Knowing that the girl needed touch, needed to feel another’s presence. She stroked the delicate skin of the sweet-smelling little thing, heartbroken for her. To be born to Faustus and to now have a dead mother.

And damned Faustus for treating the death of his wife as if it were something so minute. He had gone to the pub to celebrate the birth of his one child, his one strong son. He hardly even batted an eye at his dead wife.

Zelda felt her stomach knot, sickness overcoming her at the thought of the death. The baby could not protect herself the way her mother could have. And now it was up to Zelda to keep her alive and well.

She felt the baby move against her, the choking of a cry. “What is it, darling?” Zelda hummed, let her finger stroke across the baby’s cheek. The girl opened her mouth as she stroked near to her mouth so that Zelda knew she was hungry.

“That’s alright, my little darling. We’ll get you all nice and fed. Don’t fuss.” Zelda cooed as she sat up, buttoning herself back up so that she could decently descend to the kitchen.

The house was still. The stormy evening seeming to have passed. All had been righted in the world again. The Greendale Thirteen had been banished. Hilda had returned home - only she wasn’t returning to Zelda. She was moving out of their room. She needed her space from Zelda.

Zelda refused to feel the ache it caused in her chest.

Instead she dutifully magicked together a warm bottle of formula as she rocked the babe in her arms. She had forgotten all the duties and responsibilities of caring for a newborn and in that moment she did wish that Hilda were more pleased with her for having taken the girl.

She sat at the kitchen table, pressing the bottle to the baby’s lips and watched as she suckled it. “We made the right decision.” She spoke firmly, fumbling about for her cigarette holder and a light. Her head was practically spinning from nicotine withdrawal. How long had it been? Since before the storm picked up, since before Constance’s death...

The first inhale settled her mind back into place. She blew smoke away from the baby as she glanced down at her.

What had she gotten herself into?

The house felt so very empty, lonely. Hilda had left, gone to Dr. Cerberus’, as if she needed time and space away from Zelda. As if she wanted her to suffer through the first night with a newborn. 

But where were Ambrose and Sabrina!? Were they safe?

Zelda’s forehead creased in concern. The storm had passed, the Greendale Thirteen defeated, but where were her precious niece and nephew?

Something had changed, she could sense it in the air. There was a magical charge lingering from the passing storm. Something had happened to end the tempest. She had the distinct feeling that it had to do with Sabrina.

The baby cuddled against her chest, sated from her meal. Zelda lifted her gently to her shoulder and patted her back until she spit up and then took her back up to her room - for now it was her room alone - and changed her, swaddling her in blankets before settling her into the bassinet.

Zelda took advantage of the sleeping baby. She slipped into her nightgown, went about her nightly ritual in the silence of the evening.

Pulling her robe about herself, she lighted another cigarette and moved to peer through the window of her room for some sign that Sabrina was safe. She would return, wouldn’t she?

Zelda moved restlessly, pacing back and forth as she smoked her way through another cigarette. She moved, every so often glancing down at the baby, wondering if Faustus would make some magical nighttime visit as he was oft to do and discover the baby with her. And how would she explain it? 

She hoped he would not bother her. For all she knew he had drunk himself delirious in celebration and wouldn’t be able to make it to her. Or perhaps he might need a night to mourn his wife in private, but something told her that was not on his sick, twisted agenda. He was a free man again.

She groaned, realizing that he was now available. Available to her should she so chose…but how would she ever explain away the child?

She was too tired to think about it. She had done what was necessary. 

Only she was too worried to actually sleep.

It was not until she heard voices growing closer to the house, the sound of the front door opening and closing, that she felt as if she breathed for the first time all that evening.

“Aunties!” Sabrina called out, and that simple word put Zelda at ease.

She stood from her bed, glanced down at the baby’s sleeping form, before passing a hand over the child to place a protection spell over her. Who knew what might try to enter their home on such a strange night.

Zelda clutched at her nightgown and raced down the stairs to her niece.

“Sabrina...where in heavens have you...ah, Ms. Wardwell.” Zelda paused on the stairs, her hand instinctively moving to cover herself further with her robe.

Mary Wardwell’s bright, innocent eyes stared up at her as if she knew just what it was she had done. “Zelda.” Ms. Wardwell got out before Sabrina was bounding towards her aunt.

“Auntie, I defeated the Greendale Thirteen.” The girl wrapped her arms about Zelda, burying her face in her chest as she had done when she was little and Zelda took her into her arms, holding her close. “And…Auntie,” Sabrina turned her face up to look at Zelda. “I signed the _Book of the Beast_.”

“You…you what?” Zelda stepped back, holding Sabrina away from her.

“It was the only way to defeat the witches. Ms. Wardwell helped me.”

And then Zelda’s eyes went to the woman standing ever so cautiously behind Sabrina. “She did, did she?” Zelda felt the sharp stab of pain right in her chest. Sabrina had done it, at least – ah, and yes, her hair was a bright shade of blonde now. How had she missed it? As if it were virgin hair from when she had been a young toddler.

But she was no more a toddler, no she was a sixteen-year-old who had signed the _Book of the Beast_without her family present to witness the momentous event. She had done it, supposedly, of her own free will in order to save the mortals, her friends, her family, herself. And it had been at Ms. Wardwell’s suggestion. Not Zelda’s…oh no, it had to come from Ms. Wardwell.

Ms. Wardwell had the decency to look apologetically at Zelda over the teenager’s head.

“I see.” Zelda nodded, “well then it’s done. You’ve chosen the path of night.”

“Yes, Auntie. I think it is the best option. I can help more people this way, I can harness my powers better. Ms. Wardwell helped me to see this.”

And Zelda should have been overcome with momentous joy and pleasure at this announcement for she had waited all these years for Sabrina to sign her name over to the Dark Lord, but now…now this victory felt somehow hollow. And she had missed it. Had missed the whole moment. Because Ms. Wardwell had held Sabrina’s hand instead.

“Aren’t you happy, Auntie?” Sabrina could sense that something was amiss.

Zelda forced a lovely smile. “Yes, yes of course I’m happy for you. It’s everything I ever wanted for you. And in the morning, when Aunt Hilda comes back from Dr. Cerberus’ we shall have a breakfast to celebrate. But now it’s late. You must get to bed. Haven’t you school in the morning?”

Sabrina frowned at her for telling her to go off in such a way but after hugging Ms. Wardwell, Sabrina bound up the stairs, a new spring in her step. And after she was up the stairs and safely far away Zelda turned to face Ms. Wardwell.

Ms. Wardwell opened her hands in apology. “I told you that we wanted the same thing for Sabrina. I only helped her along. That was all I ever wanted for her. It was what Edward wanted for her…”

“I am very well aware of what it is that Edward wanted for Sabrina. He was _my_brother, after all. Perhaps I did not know him in the ways that you knew him, but I have been with Sabrina for sixteen years. I have raised her since she was just a small child. And I believe that gives me the right to know when and how and why she signed the _Book of the Beast_. I didn’t ask for you to help her along in such a way…”

Ms. Wardwell crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, I will hand it to you that the ways in which I got her to sign the book undermined your purview, but you must know that I did it to help her just as you have been trying to do all along. She just needed a little extra nudging, that was all. But she’s done it now.”

Zelda shook her head, furious. Furious that she had not been there to witness Sabrina’s ultimate baptism. Furious because she had not been able to protect her, to shield her and explain to her all that would happen and now it was done and there would be no going back. And Ms. Wardwell had had a hand in it…had orchestrated the whole damn thing.

Zelda looked sharply at Ms. Wardwell. “It was you.”

“What?” Ms. Wardwell looked at her, caught off-guard.

Zelda laughed. “Of course.” She rubbed at her forehead and then retreated into the kitchen to find her cigarettes. “You did this. You planned it all to get her to sign the book. The Greendale Thirteen was only a ploy to get her to sign, to give her some sense of power.”

“Zelda, I…”

“You’ve been grooming her, haven’t you? This whole time…you’ve been undermining me.” Zelda tried to control her rising volume, not wanting to alert Sabrina to the fact that she was displeased about the circumstances surrounding her dark baptism by fire.

“Now, I can explain.” Ms. Wardwell was using an irritatingly calm voice.

Zelda rolled her eyes to the ceiling, stalked through the house, opened the front door and moved to the deck where she sat down on a wicker chair and lit up a cigarette. Ms. Wardwell was behind her, ready with her explanation. Not even the cool night breeze or the distant smell of burning wood could possibly calm Zelda.

“Well explain it to me.” Zelda huffed, thinking to offer Ms. Wardwell a cigarette. The woman, surprisingly, accepted. Zelda lifted her lighter to the cigarette. It flicked to life, casting a warm yellow glow against Ms. Wardwell’s face, illuminating those enchanting eyes of hers and Zelda momentarily forgot what it was that she had been so upset with this woman about.

Ms. Wardwell inhaled and then leaned back in the seat of the adjoining chair. She glanced up at the night sky. It was only when the words began that smoke escaped from between her lips. “Grooming her? I suppose you could say that. It was Edward’s will. He…he visits me.”

“My brother comes to you?” Zelda coughed in disbelief.

Ms. Wardwell nodded. “You see, he guides me to help her. He tells me what it is that I might be able to do to convince her to travel the path of night.”

“He gets _you_to manipulate her.” Zelda huffed.

“No, she does it of her own free will. I merely offer her suggestions, solutions.”

Zelda laughed, “but she looks up to you. You must know that. Whatever you tell her to do she will do.”

“Not always.” Ms. Wardwell exhaled a perfect stream of smoke upwards. Zelda had not known her to be a smoker. “Well, I don’t like jerking her around anymore than you like saying ‘no’ to her. It’s only we can both agree that she’s special. She has…something special. And she was destined to be one of us.”

Zelda continued to eye her, in awe that this woman who had come out of nowhere, could know so much about Sabrina, could be so concerned for her. “How did you do it?”

“What?” Ms. Wardwell turned to her, those eyes flashing momentary sadness – as if she had been caught up in a moment of hurtful contemplation. She had been far away from the conversation for a second.

“How did you get the Thirteen?”

Ms. Wardwell looked at the burning end of her cigarette between her fingers. “I was a very powerful witch before I was banished from my church.” She shrugged, tapped off the ashes and brought the cigarette to her lips again. “When Edward appeared to me and told me that I might be able to help guide his daughter, I felt a renewed sense of hope…I felt that I would be free to use my powers again. For a worthy cause.” Ms. Wardwell turned, looked to Zelda. “I do care about her. You have to know that I do.”

Zelda’s brow creased. Hidden in those light blue eyes was a great, heavy sadness. It was breathtaking, it pulled Zelda in, made her forget that she was momentarily upset with this woman for having taken her place.

Startled by just how deep those blue eyes were, Zelda lifted her cigarette to her lips and inhaled. Looked away. “I suppose I do know.” _I just don’t understand why. _

“I apologize for taking that experience away from you. I didn’t mean…”

Zelda took a deep breath. “It’s done now.” Zelda flicked her cigarette irritably. “I had just hoped to witness it. Though I was beginning to think it may never happen.”

“Ah, I think you would have been able to convince her eventually.” Ms. Wardwell offered a smile. “I just pushed her along. Sped up the process.”

“I suppose I should be grateful, then.” Zelda happened a glance at Ms. Wardwell, knowing that she had only meant to help Sabrina. What it was that she got out of the situation – Zelda was uncertain. Did Edward come to her and take care for her in exchange for helping Sabrina? In a way, Zelda could imagine Edward in death using his fiendishly good looks to his advantage. He had always drawn women to him.

But Ms. Wardwell seemed genuine in her interest of the girl, and for that Zelda was grateful.

“You needn’t thank me for any of it.” Ms. Wardwell rubbed at her forehead, as if the day had been difficult for her. As if she wished things might be different. She did not appear like a woman who took sexual gratification to do little favors for anyone. She looked – Zelda realized – a bit trapped. A stream of smoke flowed from between her lips and she stared out across the graveyard before them, off into the still of the night and Zelda found herself unable to look away from her strong, angular profile. The strikingly handsome, chiseled features of her face, her sharp cheekbones, the rounded curve of her red lips.

Zelda was drawn to her. She could feel her body responding to this woman beside her. And yet there was nothing between them. Only this hatred that somehow felt more like appreciation, acknowledgement of someone else who was also limited in some way or other.

Ms. Wardwell turned, her eyes catching Zelda’s in the dim light. “You do know that you’re quite stunning.” She brought the cigarette to her lips and inhaled, not taking her eyes away from Zelda. Unafraid, unashamed.

And Zelda’s heart leapt in her chest. She looked out to the yard, picked uneasily at her robe with her fingers. Her cheeks warm.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you.” Ms. Wardwell inhaled, those piercing eyes still looking at Zelda.

“You didn’t.” Zelda’s voice faltered for a brief moment. Oh, it had been long…long since last she’d had a woman.

“It’s only that when I see you...when I…I’m very drawn to you. You’re very beautiful, Zelda. And I feel like you see _me_, like you might just…understand.”

Zelda turned to look at the woman beside her, who was practically whispering to her and Zelda was so warm, so taken off-guard by this forwardness. For women were never so forward with her. “Ms. Wardwell…”

“Oh, please. Mary.”

Zelda laughed darkly. Of course, they were past formalities now, weren’t they? “Mary, I…I…”

Mary was smiling at her, those eyes so intently focused upon her. She crushed out her cigarette in Zelda’s ashtray, standing up in one swift motion to kneel before Zelda. “I know that you don’t necessarily like me…”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Zelda’s hand moved to caress the soft, defined cheek of Mary’s face. Her fingers tangled into dark curls. She hadn’t liked Mary’s interruption into her family life, but she was not miffed about this abrupt turn of events. 

“Zelda, let me…” Mary moved closer to her, reached to cup Zelda’s cheek, to run her thumb beneath Zelda’s lip which quivered in decadent anticipation. “I want to kiss you. May I...may I kiss you?” Mary’s eyes were laser focused on Zelda’s lips and Zelda could only nod, to move forward to allow those delicious, full lips to press against her own.

But then there was Sabrina’s voice calling out. Damn her. Always interrupting everything. “Auntie Zee! Auntie Zee! Why is there a baby crying in your room?”

“For Satan’s sake.” Zelda clasped at Mary’s shoulders, pushing her away from her. Her heart was pounding. She had been just about to kiss this delicious creature before her and now Sabrina was rounding on them.

Mary was on her feet when Sabrina appeared around the corner breathless. “Auntie…there’s a baby…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify...Ch. 2 of this traveled back in time to the point in the actual show when Mary and Zelda's paths cross during the exorcism. This is filling in the holes of the actual show. Yes, it's a little confusing. Yes, it's jumping around. Yes, it will all come together in a strange and unexpected way in the end.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

“You stole Faustus’ baby.” Sabrina was wide-eyed, seated on Hilda’s bed across from Zelda. Mary stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed, her face not betraying whether or not she thought what Zelda had done was laudable or idiotic. She had hardly spoken a word, seemingly fixated on Zelda and the babe, as if mesmerized and fascinated by Zelda caring for the baby.

Zelda cradled the baby against her chest after having changed her while under interrogation by her niece. She was rocking her gently back to sleep, afraid of what may happen. She had not intended on Mary Wardwell knowing about her little heist. She may be growing fond of the witch but she wasn’t entirely certain she could trust her with this. Did Mary Wardwell know Faustus? Zelda could never be certain about affiliations. “I didn’t...steal her. I... I’m protecting her. For Constance.” Zelda added for good measure.

“Protecting the child from what, exactly?” Mary finally spoke up. “You say that Father Blackwood only wanted a boy heir but if he finds out that he had a girl first, shouldn’t he be glad? Shouldn’t she have all the rights to his position?”

Zelda snorted. Mary clearly did not know Faustus Blackwood at all. “Father Blackwood wants only a male heir to inherit his position. He would have killed her had he known she existed. But I - we will not give him the satisfaction. Instead we shall simply...”

Sabrina’s face screwed up into a frown. “Simply what? Raise this child as if she were your own? That wouldn’t seem suspicious in some way or other? And besides he comes here...doesn’t he Auntie? How will you explain the fact that you have a child that looks exactly like his son?”

Zelda’s face grew red as her teenaged niece laid into her with such perfect precision. How did she know that Faustus came here...she had tried to be so careful, so cautious.

Zelda happened a furtive glance in Mary’s direction and saw the woman eyeing her curiously. To her amusement, however, Mary looked more intrigued than disappointed at this revelation.

“Sabrina, the logistics of this situation will sort themselves out. I haven’t the...the strength to think about it this evening. I am aware of your concerns. I share these concerns, but at this point what has been done has been done. Isn’t it better to have a child alive rather than dead?”

Sabrina was looking at her as if she had a screw loose and she resented her for being so keen about things. She was too tired to fight her.

“Please, Sabrina. Can we talk about this in the morning? She’s asleep.... there’s probably a limited window of time for me to sleep....”

Sabrina rolled her eyes at her aunt and huffed. She left in a teenaged flourish. Zelda felt her tight body loosen, yet also felt herself unable to look at Mary who remained.

But whom had no intention to stay for long. “I should probably be going as well. It’s late.” Mary stood, smoothed out her dress beneath that tantalizing leather coat.

Damn this child. Damn her for driving away her sister, for making Sabrina so self-righteous, for running Mary off.

“Father Blackwood visited several times during Lady Blackwood’s pregnancy, merely as a – er precaution as I am the Night Mother for the twins. He came to me, you see, to…to ask me to take on the responsibility, so I feel it is my duty to help these twins…especially now that Lady Blackwood is…”

“Shh,” she felt Mary’s hand on her cheek. “You needn’t justify yourself to me.” The school teacher reached down and took the sleeping baby carefully from Zelda’s arms, cradling it gently as she carried her to the bassinet. Mary laid the baby into the crib, reaching down to caress her head, a tender look in her strong eyes. Zelda was transfixed by her motions, by her carefulness. “It’s impossible for only one person to satisfy your needs. I am certain you know this.”

Zelda’s tired eyes widened. Was Mary implying what she thought she was?

“You’re tired, dear. Why don’t you get some rest before the child wakes again?” Mary was moving towards her, helping her into bed, tucking her in with great attention and care, reaching for a bottle of Valium that sat atop the table. She fed one to Zelda, helped her drink back some water and then sat with her, stroking her hair. Almost the way Hilda might have done it were she still here…

Zelda felt so relaxed, so warm and sleepy. The blankets offered a warm shroud about her tired body, lulling her into a serene sense of comfort and security. Zelda hummed, her eyes closed, the drug working its magic.

“Besides,” Mary’s voice was right next to her ear, so warm and sweet. She could feel the soft curl of her dark hair against her cheek. “When I have my way with you… I won’t leave you wanting.”

Zelda’s eyes flashed wide open.

Mary was gone.

The room was dark. 

* * *

Zelda was more elated than she was willing to admit to find Hilda cooking cheerily in the kitchen the following morning.

Zelda carried the baby in her arms, her body unsteady from having gotten up and down nearly every hour on the hour to sit with the girl. She’d smoked one too many cigarettes. She’d taken another Valium. Her mouth was dry, she was exhausted and certain she looked like hell.

But there was Hilda in the kitchen and she felt the heaviness from about her shoulders lift. To see her darling sister in her natural place brought her immense joy and comfort.

And Hilda turned from the stove as she happily hummed, “Good morning sist….oh.” Her face fell at the sight of Zelda and Zelda realized she must look worse than she imagined. “Oh, love. You didn’t sleep at all, did you?”

Zelda yawned and shook her head, joining Hilda to prepare a bottle for the baby. “Not much. You missed quite the revelatory evening last night. Our darling niece has signed the _Book of the Beast_.”

“She what?” Hilda’s beautiful face fell, worry clouding her visage and Zelda hated when she looked this way.

“Oh yes, Ms. Wardwell made certain that it happened. Last night.”

“Is she…”

“Oh, very happy to have done so.” Zelda’s voice was low and gravely. She took the prepared bottle and baby to the table to light herself a cigarette. Her newspapers were piled neatly beside her plate. Hilda was no longer upset with her. She knew from this simple gesture.

“So, we are…”

“Going to celebrate. I promised her a lovely breakfast with her aunts and Ambrose to commemorate this momentous occasion.” Zelda started with the Chinese paper, though her lack of sleep was making the symbols all blur together into nonsense.

Hilda had brought a cup of steaming coffee to her sister, but stood beside her instead of racing off again to check on something in the oven, or to flip a pancake, or start the tea kettle again. “Zelds,” Hilda let her hand stroke through Zelda’s tangled hair, pushing it away from her face. “She’s a growing girl who wanted to do it of her own accord.”

“With the fantastic help of Ms. Mary Wardwell.”

Hilda scoffed. “I’m not sure I trust her.”

“Nor do I.” Zelda admitted. Though the way Mary had caressed her lip, had whispered against her ear…or had she?

Hilda was looking at her almost as if she could read her thoughts. And just as she was about to say something they both heard footsteps on the stairs.

“Aunties!” Sabrina swept into the kitchen, moving to throw herself about Hilda. “Aunt Hilda, have you heard?”

“Oh yes, love. Your Aunt Zelda has just told me the news.”

“Well, aren’t you pleased?” Sabrina was looking to Aunt Hilda for reassurance.

Zelda puffed on her cigarette, looked away from her niece and sister, glancing down instead at the baby.

“Yes, love. If this is what you want.”

Sabrina nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, and I think we should have your famous cinnamon apple waffles to celebrate.”

Hilda and Zelda looked at another as Sabrina took a seat at the table. Zelda saw the concern in her sister’s glance but could only offer a brief shrug. It was done and there was nothing more they could.

Hilda forged a smile. “Yes, yes. Of course. I’ll whip those right up, love.”

* * *

And thankfully Hilda stayed the night. Zelda was not sure she could face another night alone.

Only Hilda was rummaging about in her drawers, pulling item after item out. Zelda’s delusions that she was truly back were suddenly burst open at the seams. “What are you doing?” Zelda had just put the baby down in her bassinet before she realized what it was that Hilda was doing.

“I’m moving to Edward’s old room.”

Zelda laughed. “Why ever for?”

“I told you, Zelds. I think it’s time for me to move out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Zelda shook her head, moved to reach for her sister, to stop this insanity that was playing out before her. There was no reason to move out of _their_room. “You can’t possibly still be mad at me for taking the child. I’m only trying to protect her…”

“I know what you’re doing, Zelda.” Hilda pulled free from her grasp and continued pulling her negligees from the bottom drawer. All of them Zelda had seen to some varying degree over the years.

“Then what is this about?” Zelda found herself seated atop Hilda’s bed, hands uselessly atop her lap.

Hilda refused to look at her. She had never been one for conflict. She avoided it like the plague. “Dr. Cerberus and I are…”

“I’ve always liked the fact that you’re with him. I think he’s lovely for you.” Zelda quickly pointed out.

“That’s not it, Zelds.”

“Then what?” Zelda’s voice broke, she didn’t want her sister to run from her. Not now.

Hilda stopped pulling at her clothes, her hands coming to rest atop the pile, as if in defeat. “I worry about you and Father Blackwood. If he were to find her…”

“He won’t find out.”

Hilda turned to look at Zelda. Her face less than amused. “You can’t be certain of that, Zelda. And besides, I…well he’s just so very rough with you…I can’t…I don’t like it.”

Zelda felt her heart melt at her sister’s words, her loving concern. “Oh, Hilda.” Zelda was on the floor, crawling towards her sister on her hands and knees. “Hilda.” Zelda tried to take her into her arms, but Hilda moved away from her.

“No, Zelda. I think it’s time. I think it’s time we…at least for a little while. Edward’s bedroom isn’t so far away, Zelds. I think…”

“Don’t leave this room, Hilda.” Zelda’s voice was firm, but it hardly packed a punch when she was withered atop the floor and the words came out frightened and shaky.

Hilda collected her items up into her arms and struggled to stand.

“Hilda.” Zelda whimpered, feeling foolish for being as close to tears as she was. Hilda always brought out this childish side of her. Their tiffs always bringing her back to when they had been younger. When things had been so very different between them.

“Zelds, it’ll be alright, love.” And she leaned down to press a kiss to Zelda’s forehead before disappearing out the door.

* * *

Hilda had agreed to take Letty to Dr. Cerberus’ – for Zelda had named the baby Leticia in honor of Ambrose’s deceased mother. She had been so dear to all of them and it seemed natural. The girl had taken to the name, opening her eyes, looking at Zelda as Zelda spoke to her while they laid together atop her bed.

But this evening Zelda needed something more than the cuddle of an infant. And since her sister had taken up in Edward’s bedroom it left her one of two choices.

One of her conquests had left her wanting.

The other had left her high and dry after the birth of his perfect son. Though she could scarcely be upset that Faustus was keeping away from her for she was harboring his child.

And while having Letty with her helped fill her maternal urges, she was a woman with certain needs. Hilda understood this, more so than others. She had encouraged Zelda, given her the night to do as she pleased.

And Hilda had been so very darling holding the baby, cooing over her with Dr. Cerberus at her side. Like a perfectly happy little family. It had warmed Zelda’s heart, the fear of being found out had faded for just that moment.

Zelda drove through the foggy evening, noting that winter would soon be upon them. The roads would be covered in snow in no time. Yule was around the corner.

But now the world hung in death and decay, the trees – as she grew deeper and deeper into the woods – laid half-barren and brown so that she could make out the stars and the moon in the sky. She smoked her cigarette, feeling a warm electricity vibrating through her body. It was her favorite time of year.

The road was easy enough to find. She wondered if she would be a welcomed guest or if she might be intruding upon something. She was simply showing up – no plan, no idea of what to expect.

The lights were on in the cottage, the chimney smoking. All good enough signs.

Zelda put out her cigarette with her heel, grounding it down into decomposing leaves beneath her feet, and then rang the bell.

Mary Wardwell appeared as if a vision, her hair falling around her face, her robe askew so that Zelda could see the curve of her breast, the hint of a bare, muscular thigh. Zelda cleared her throat, her eyes returning to crystal clear blues that looked as if they’d been expecting her.

“It’s certainly chilly out there, why don’t you come on inside and warm yourself up?” Mary reached for the collar of Zelda’s coat and practically dragged her into the warmth of the cottage. And she used those nimble fingers to undo Zelda’s coat, those clear blue eyes not looking away from her as she unwrapped Zelda from it. And then Mary took the coat from her to hang on her coat rack. “I was just making some tea; would you like some?”

“Yes…” Zelda nodded, felt her brow furrow, now uncertain of where it was they stood with one another.

And Mary paused before she turned to retreat to her kitchen. “I’m very pleased that you’re here.” She went to Zelda who still stood uneasily near the front door. “I was beginning to wonder when it would be that we would see one another again. I can only imagine what you must be going through…because of the…well.” Mary had cupped Zelda’s cheek, her eyes lingering on Zelda’s lips before flicking up to meet her gaze. Her lips turned upwards into a smile. “You’re exquisite.”

Zelda’s lips parted of their own accord – a brief, surprised inhale - and Mary’s eyes flicked down, her eyebrow raising in surprise and delight. Her face came closer. Zelda’s breath caught in her throat, and then Mary’s warm, lush lips were pressed to her lips and they were kissing. Brief, playful.

Mary grinned, put an arm about Zelda. “Have a seat. Warm yourself up. I’ll be right back with the tea.”

But Zelda was already warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever you're thinking...you're probably right. :)


	7. Chapter 7

The tea was an unnecessary prop. It merely served as something to hold, to press lips against the porcelain edge, to taste the tea leaves that evoked soothing sensations in her mouth. She watched as Mary sipped her own tea, her brilliant fuchsia lips busying themselves with the rim of the tea cup, those eyes curiously watching Zelda as Zelda watched her.

“I gather you didn’t come here to share a cup of tea with me.” Mary’s eyebrow rose as she spoke, the corner of her lip pulled up in a teasing smile.

Zelda settled the cup atop its saucer and placed it on the table between them. Shaking her head, she pulled out a cigarette and sought out to Mary’s eyes for permission. Mary nodded in acquiescence and she lit the cigarette in her holder, the nicotine complimenting the taste of the almond vanilla tea Mary favored. “Nor do I want to talk about Sabrina.” She spent enough of her day worried about the teen, concerned for her – both glad that she had agreed to attend the Academy, yet also afraid for what her path would bring. The last few months had been revelatory about just who Sabrina was becoming. And Zelda was losing her control over the situation and the girl.

And tonight she had come to forget. Because she knew that Mary Wardwell could help her do that. But she did not want to make assumptions, move too quickly – for she could still not be certain that the woman beside her had said what it was she’d thought she’d said that evening after putting her to bed.

She smoked lazily, allowing her head to roll back against the high-backed chair that was surprisingly more comfortable than it had at first appeared. The fire was crackling, Mary’s deep floral musk perfume mixed with Zelda’s smoke, intoxicatingly. Her eyes slid closed, contented in that moment. 

She felt two hands come to rest on her shoulders, fingers moving tantalizingly, relaxingly against her tense, tense muscles and she sighed in appreciation. The pressure increased, her body responding in kind to being pampered so delightfully. Then the fingers were at her collar, loosening it, opening button after button of her jacket. There was the sweep of dark hair against her cheek, lips coming to press against the side of her cheek, beneath her jaw as hands made quick work of her white blouse buttons, so that slowly her chest was revealed to the glowing light of the fire and those enchanting lips moved to suck ever so lightly at her neck, just in that spot that made her wild as hands slid between skin and the strict confines of her brasserie – the lacy one that Hilda had chosen for her.

Hands cupped her breasts, the pad of soft thumbs gliding over her awakening nipples. Her head fell back against the chair, she moaned, those lips on her neck moving, upwards, enclosing over her wanting lips.

Mary teased her, light, fluttering kisses, the flick of a tongue over her bottom lip, and she reached for Mary, to pull her closer, accidentally sinking her teeth into Mary’s lip. Mary hissed and pulled away laughing. “Impatient are we, Spellman?”

But Zelda could only nod hazily, her nearly bare chest rising and falling with want. Her nipples missed the contact of Mary’s knowledgeable hands.

Mary took her cigarette from her, puffed at it before crushing it out in her tea cup. “Come, come.” Mary held out a hand for Zelda, helped her up, kept her steady as they made their way to the bedroom, crashing against a wall or two, pausing to kiss, to touch. Mary pulled her free of her jacket, it landed unceremoniously near the kitchen.

Zelda, falling messily from her heels, reached for Mary, shoving her face first into the wall so that she could pull the robe from her shoulder’s, exposing the bare skin of the other woman’s back. Zelda watched the revelation of skin as she took her time undoing the other woman, let her free hand pass over the smooth skin as it was revealed to her. She pushed at Mary to keep her against the wall, pining her hips with her own so that she could lean down and press a kiss to the middle of her back.

Mary turned her head, laughed, let the robe fall from her body to reveal her taut middle, her breasts held up in her bra, the black lace of her underwear revealing far more than Zelda could have hoped. Mary pushed them away from the wall and led them into the bedroom at the back of the cottage. There were candles lit about the room – as if Mary truly had been expecting this. Zelda felt Mary’s hand at her waist, holding her close as she undid the zipper at the back of her skirt and then she was ridding her of the garment, keeping her close to her, letting her hand cover Zelda between her legs.

Zelda whimpered, wanting to move against the touch, but it was brief, momentary. She turned in Mary’s embrace, put her hands about the other woman’s shoulders, and their lips crushed together, leisurely, languorously. She barely noticed Mary moving them, shifting so that the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed and then Mary was hovering above her, thigh between her legs, her hair – that glorious hair! – falling about her face and all she could see were those two brilliant orbs of blue. And Mary was pressing against her or she was pressing against Mary and her body was so close and she grasped at Mary’ pulled her close, wreathed in ecstasy as she unexpectedly orgasmed all too soon, much too soon.

But Mary stayed with her, let her ride out the sensation until she was sensitive and shifted, felt her tight body loosen and fall against the bed. Oh, it had been so long.

Her body was warm. Mary was still practically dressed, she still had on her shirt, her underthings. She wanted to feel Mary pressed against her. She pawed at Mary, wrestling at her until it was removed, the lacy black bra beneath removed to divulge large unexpectedly large breasts with taut pink nipples. Zelda was transfixed, her eyes unable to move away from Mary’s delicious chest.

She lifted herself to clasp at one breast, to bring the nipple to her lips. She could hear Mary’s breath catching in her throat, the slight gasp that was uttered, the curse word, her name. Mary’s hands trailed through her head, held her close as she sucked and teased.

“Oh, Zelda.” Mary straddled her, searched for friction. “You gorgeous creature.”

Zelda pushed at Mary, got her on her back. She wrapped her mouth around her other nipple, looking up to find approving blue eyes gazing back at her. And then she suckled the nipple as she lifted upwards until it popped from her mouth and Mary moaned. Zelda moved to pull down her lacy black underwear, tossing it somewhere far away without looking, for her eyes were laser focused. Mary was open to her, unashamedly and she leaned down, pressing her lips to the side of Mary’s thigh.

She watched as Mary’s hands went to her own breasts, stroking the nipples as she diligently watched Zelda.

Zelda stroked a finger upwards through Mary’s wetness, circling her center before leaning forward to press her tongue right to the bundle of nerves. Mary startled beneath, her body tightening, pressing as Zelda licked upwards, covering her mouth over the delicious nub, suckling, delighting in the noises that Mary made above her as she made quick work of lapping her up, and then as Mary opened more to her she sunk her fingers inside of her, coating them before curling them upwards and in and out in rhythm with her mouth.

And Mary was crying out, her body moving wildly against Zelda until she could take it no more and then her body was shaking and Zelda held pressed to her, stayed with her until she fell back against the bed. She turned her head, kissed the inside of Mary’s strong, muscular thigh, licking upwards, over the spans over her stomach, pressing gentle, light kisses to the right nipple, the left and then Mary was pulling her upwards, crushing their lips together.

“Oh, you darling, darling thing.” Mary was stroking her hair and kissing her frantically, probingly, wantonly. “I want to feel you.” She whispered against her ear before biting the lobe.

Zelda was so warm, so very warm because she was still half in her shirt and her underwear which was thoroughly soaked through. And Mary made quick work of getting her out of her clothing, so that she could cup and squeeze and hold Zelda’s tender breasts, then licking one nipple and then the other. Their bodies crashed together, arms and legs entwined, Zelda reveling in the feel of Mary’s strong, muscular yet soft body in her arms. Their legs entwined, Zelda searched for some place to press against.

Mary’s hand came down between their legs, finding Zelda’s sensitive slickness and she rubbed at Zelda’s swollen center. Zelda was so pliable, so very willing and ready to have this direct stimulation that her body caved. She crashed down hard and strong against Mary’s fingers, wrapping tightly around the other woman. Until her muscles could take no more.

There had been a time when Zelda had needed humiliation and cunning play to get off, but there was something comforting, something different about Mary. Her body, which fit perfectly like a puzzle piece against into Zelda’s…the calming air she had about her…it was different, but so very welcome.

And Zelda laid back against the bed, watched as Mary lit up a cigarette – of which she apparently kept hidden away in her bedside table - and passed it to her.

Zelda inhaled decadently, blew a ring of smoke to the sky, felt Mary’s fingers caressing her sweaty forehead, pulling away her hair, kissing her cheek. They kept enough distance to cool down, but Zelda’s arm went about Mary, her fingers stroking at her back, Mary’s fingers slid over Zelda’s cooling sternum, Mary’s lips bending to kiss at her chest.

Mary took the cigarette back, inhaled. She leaned down, Zelda opening her lips to inhale the stream of smoke that passed from Mary’s mouth to her own and then their lips melted together.

But she should have known this moment would not last. It was too decadent, too delicious and sweet. Zelda’s hand was on Mary’s cheek about to bring her closer to kiss her again when she felt her body being pulled, ripped away from the warmth of Mary’s bed.

And there she was. Naked in the dark chambers which starkly contrasted the warm, homey bedroom she had just been in.

Faustus eyed her curiously – having not considered that she might be in a state of undress when he’d called.

She covered herself, knowing it was useless. “Why ever have you called me here? Oh, for Satan’s sake. Give me something to put on.” Zelda groaned.

The corner of Faustus’ lips curled into a smile. He did not move to do as she asked. “Judas has been running a fever all evening. I haven’t been able to get him to sleep. As his Night Mother I feel it is your duty to ensure that he is alright. Though it seems I might have…interrupted something…”

Zelda huffed, looked about for a blanket, for something to make herself at least somewhat decent. She was sticky and cold and in no state to be dealing with the child. She could hear him crying in the other room. He sounded in pain. “Give me a robe.” She demanded again and Faustus reluctantly complied, leading her into the anti-chamber where Judas was screaming.

“Oh, my poor, poor darling.” Zelda bowed over the crib and placed a hand to his burning forehead. “We need to get him out of these clothes and draw him a lukewarm bath.” Zelda made quick work of undoing the black onesie while Faustus attempted to run water into a basin. Zelda pulled Judas up into her arms, nestling his warm cheek against her cold one.

She moved to check the water, pushing Faustus away for he had done it all wrong. It was too cold. She let warmer water mix in and then carefully she settled the naked baby into the water and stroked his poor, tired, sick body, conjuring up a magic spell which would soothe him back to an even temperature. And slowly, slowly the magic seeped in and Judas’ cries calmed to a whimper and his temperature plummeted back down to normal.

Zelda’s racing heart calmed and she watched the infant as his eyes grew tired with sleep. She lifted him from the water, swaddled him up, soothed his aching limbs with some calming salve, changed him and then settled him back into the bassinet. As if all on auto-pilot, as if curing an ill child were a daily chore.

And as she let her finger trail over the dark curl of hair on Judas’ forehead, she felt two strong arms about her.

“How can I repay you, Zelda?” Faustus was so near to her, his breath warm against her neck.

“You needn’t repay me at all.”

“We could make a splendid team together, you and I. Raising young Judas.”

Zelda laughed at this, how simply he’d suggested this idea, as if it might be only natural that she would replace Constance. Could she be Lady Zelda Blackwood? How many years had she thought she’d wanted this…and now it was upon her and she found that the idea irked her.

His lips were warm against her bare shoulder, the robe had slipped. His hand found its way to her breast and he pulled at her nipple with his rough hand. And she hated herself for responding when she had only moments before been contentedly in bed beside Mary Wardwell and her perfect lips and her perfect breasts and her perfect…

Faustus had her pinned against the wall, his body strong against hers. He kissed her roughly. “I’ll bet she doesn’t know what it is you like, you filthy, dirty slut.” He whispered. “She can’t make you come to your edge like I can.”

Zelda whimpered, tried to move her tired arm to slap him, but he held her arm, twisted it so that she fell into the wall. She groaned, listened as he undid his belt. The robe fell from her shoulder, leaving her exposed. The belt hit her on her right cheek and she hissed in pain. Then his hand was on her behind, massaging the sore spot, biting her neck.

“She doesn’t know how to hurt you the way you like to be hurt.”

“I don’t…” Zelda whispered fruitlessly.

Faustus laughed, took hold of her and practically carried her to the bed. With the slight of a hand she found herself bound to all four corners. He came between her, she twisted but the ropes were tight. A feather appeared in his hand and he slid it over her nipple and her eyes closed, her body shook. He pulled it up between her legs and she twisted to try and squeeze her legs together but she could not.

Faustus was smiling at her, delighting in her frustration.

“Let me go.” Zelda demanded through tight lips.

Faustus laughed and did as he was instructed and Zelda came at him, attacked him in just the way that she knew he would want to be attacked and they wrestled roughly, there was biting and she slapped at him, hurt him until he had her on her back, pinned down and then he was inside of her. Thrusting, pulling at her hair.

He pushed deeply into her and she felt him come to his end inside of her. She waited for him to remove himself from her, to climb off her back. She was sweaty and tense. Frustrated to have lost the feeling of Mary on her.

“Send me back.” Zelda demanded, face still pressed against the mattress.

“You can’t possibly think she’ll want you now.” Faustus had stood from the bed, was preparing himself for bed now that his son was healed and Zelda paid in full.

“Send me back, Faustus.” Zelda snarled, sitting up on shaky limbs.

Faustus shrugged. “As you wish, only you’ll see in time that I’m the better choice. I’d be careful if I were you.”

Zelda felt her brow furrow as her body was thrust back to the cottage, landing atop the surprisingly comfortable mattress. Only Mary was no longer in the bed and the candles had been extinguished.

Zelda felt a wave of panic settle low in her chest. Had Faustus ruined everything?

And then she heard the sound of water running in the bathtub and realized there was light streaming out from beneath the bathroom door. Mary was drawing a bath.

Zelda sat up on shaky arms and legs and made her way to the door, pressing on it. It came open easily and she found the naked witch sitting atop the edge of the tub trailing her finger through the steaming water. Those enchanting, lively eyes looked up, a smile spread across her lips. “I thought you might be back.” And Mary held out her hand for Zelda to take.

And their fingers came together and Mary tugged her closer, pulled her in to kiss her, to kiss away the foul taste Faustus had left behind.

They sunk into the tub together, Mary cradling Zelda in her arms, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, her neck. “And how was Father Blackwood?” Mary asked when her hands were in Zelda’s hair, as if it were nothing.

Zelda coughed. How had she known? “Ju-Judas was ill.”

“The poor child. I do hope you healed him with your magical touch.” Mary let her hand trail down Zelda’s arm to her fingers which she tenderly took between her own, as if in reverence of their enchantment. 

Zelda realized then that they were on the same page and she let her body fold back against Mary’s, nodding as their fingers played together. “I certainly did.”


	8. Chapter 8

Yule grew closer.

The days went by uneventfully so that Zelda began to feel a certain sense of false security around harboring Letitia. Faustus refrained from visiting, apparently preoccupied with his own infant, whom Prudence helped to care for.

As Zelda laid atop the bed with Letitia curled on her stomach, smoke swirling up above her head, she thought of what Faustus had said those few nights before. His proposal to raise Judas together, presumably as husband and wife, whirled about on repeat. It was all she had ever wanted, to be the rightful High Priestess. It was a position she felt owed to her after her brother’s death.

For Zelda had wanted so desperately to be the High Priestess in her own right. She, the eldest Spellman, had felt the position would belong to her when her father, Felix Spellman, died. She had studied diligently under her father, had learned what it was to be High Priest in the hopes that one day she would be able to fill his shoes. Only to learn, upon her father’s death, that it was Edward who would assume the role.

It had been explained that a woman could never handle the duties the way a man could. And though she had been miffed, she had respected her brother and his time with the church – for that had been expected of her. To be okay with this.

And so, she had pretended to be. Though she took special delight when Edward would come to her to consult her about matters of the church. They would meet late in the evening, lock themselves up in the study and discuss the policies of the church, Zelda always falling on the more conservative side of the issue, leading her brother back to safe ground when he would go too far astray with one of his wild ideas.

She felt that so much of what he had accomplished during his time as High Priest had been partially due to her, so that when he had died she had, wrongly, assumed she would finally be allowed the title. Only it came to light that Faustus Blackwood – by some inane rule of order – had the actual claim. He was teaching spellcasting at the Academy. Edward had warned Zelda away from him, for he had been so very, very charming and delicious and she would relish their time talking if they happened upon one another in the corridors of the Academy.

There had been nights spent together back then – it had not been only friendly.

She had never understood why Edward had wished for her to stay away from Faustus. She’d watched, feeling as if everything were lost to her, when the shy, refined, well-mannered young Constance had married Faustus. She had hardly been his equal the way Zelda would have been (and Hilda would have understood it…because Hilda always knew her better than she even knew herself.)

Edward had assured her it was for the best, but she could not help but wonder why it seemed the coveted role of High Priestess was kept from her.

Zelda Spellman deserved to be the High Priestess. She had waited long enough.

But it was Mary’s decadent hands, luscious lips, dark tresses of hair, lithe, limber body that stayed in her mind, caused her heart to pound. Despite the fact that Mary had nothing to offer her in terms of power. It was a carnal, rewarding, decadent want for the school teacher. Would she understand if marrying Faustus was to be the path forward for Zelda?

She brought the cigarette to her lips, inhaled decadently and stroked Letitia’s head. The baby cooed and nestled closer into her. And what would happen to Letitia? She could hardly marry Faustus and keep the child.

The bedroom door opened and Zelda looked up to find Hilda bringing in a tray of tea and an assortment of foods. She had known Zelda would not have eaten a thing of her own accord. Especially not with Hilda gone at the bookstore, away for nights with Dr. Cerberus as she had been more and more recently.

And Zelda missed her darling sister.

“You shouldn’t smoke so near to the child.” Hilda accosted in her shy way as she settled the tray on the bedside table, waving a hand through the perpetual cloud of smoke hanging around her sister. She reached down, took Letitia from Zelda’s arms so that the older witch could sit up, tap off her ashes properly.

Hilda snuggled the infant – had grown infinitely fonder of the baby despite her disapproval of the situation. She placed her in her basinet as Zelda lifted one of Hilda’s freshly made scones to her lips. It tasted sinfully delicious.

“Mr. Richards died in his sleep last night. They’ll be bringing the body here later this afternoon and I wondered if you’d be here to receive it.” Hilda lifted Zelda’s discarded robe from what had been her bed – what still should be her bed – and settled atop its surface.

“I have no where to go.” Zelda crushed out her cigarette and lifted the tea cup. “You will be at Dr. Cerberus’, I presume?”

Hilda nodded.

“I see.” Zelda sipped the tea, sat it back down on the saucer.

“I left some food for dinner. Sabrina will be here, it would be nice if you might eat with her.” Hilda sounded so distant.

Zelda’s brow furrowed. “I’m not a child, I am perfectly capable of…”

“I know, Zelds.” Hilda sighed. “You…you had a nice time, with Ms. Wardwell?”

Zelda nodded, reached for Hilda, disliking the distance between them. Hilda came to her, she folded into her side, Zelda wrapped her arm about her and held her close to her.

“I think she’s good for you.” Hilda whispered, leaning her head against Zelda’s shoulder.

“Faustus practically proposed to me.” Zelda whispered.

Hilda sat up, turned to look at her sister. “You can’t possibly…”

“Well, it’s nothing official. Yet. It’s only…”

“You can’t possibly consider that, Zelds.”

“You sound like Edward.” Zelda scoffed.

“Because we both knew that Faustus wasn’t right for you.”

“But he has _my _title. The title I should have had before Edward. You know it.” Zelda reached for another cigarette, annoyed.

“This isn’t the way to go about it, Zelda.” Hilda shook her head in disapproval.

Zelda lighted her cigarette and crossed an arm over her chest. “Well it’s nothing…certain.”

Hilda moved to get up but Zelda reached for her, needed her to be there with her. “Hilda.”

“Zelda, let me go, lovey. I have to be in town…”

“Hilda.” Zelda felt lost, bereft.

Hilda sighed, turned back to face her sister, placed her arms on her shoulder, looked deep into her eyes. “Zelda, I love you and I always have. But I don’t want to see you do this to yourself. That was your rightful title, and I have every hope that it will come about, but marrying Faustus…after all that has happened…after knowing who he is…”

Zelda hated her sister’s voice of reason, resented her for these words. She wanted to take the easy path forward.

“Zelda, oh love.” Hilda cradled her cheek lovingly in her hand, pulled her closer to press their lips together.

Zelda bowed her head and nodded, allowed Hilda to leave her.

* * *

There was snow falling down outside the window. Zelda could see it from where she laid in bed, in the light of the mid-afternoon.

She rubbed her face contentedly into the pillow, delighted in the feel of fingernails trailing down her bare back.

Lips moved to press against her shoulder. It was unhurried, these languorous afternoons now spent in Mary’s arms. She wanted to tell her everything, but she told her nothing, and she felt as if – somehow – Mary already knew. She had a power, a presence to her that was so much more than a common witch. Zelda was intoxicated by her each time they came together, the feeling growing more and more powerful with each time Mary brought her to climax. As if she knew just what it was Zelda needed.

It somehow felt more powerful than Faustus – but Zelda could not explain it. This sensation that passed between them, the absolute authority with which Mary handled her and allowed herself to be handled. As if their actions had happened a million times before in a million inexplicable ways.

Mary allowed her hand to travel the length of Zelda’s side, over her warm stomach, burying between her legs to lightly touch her swollen center. And Zelda shifted happily, hazily to match Mary’s motions, her breathing coming shallowly as Mary kissed her shoulder, her neck. She wreathed, crying out into the pillow as her body was overcome by yet another decadent orgasm.

Mary shifted from her, laid back against the bed. Zelda rubbed her legs together, exhausted, fell forward onto her stomach. They spoke so very little, neither good at opening up to the other. Both tight-lipped, both distracted by the physical.

Zelda turned her head to glance at her bed companion. She looked distracted, her blue eyes searching the ceiling as if it held the answer to some unanswerable question. Zelda moved closer, pressed her lips against her arm. “What is it?”

Mary shook her head.

Zelda sighed, rested her head against Mary’s chest, listened inside of her ribcage to the pounding of her heart. Mary wrapped an arm about her, let her red fingers trail down her arm absently.

“Have you ever been denied something you desperately wanted?” Mary’s voice was distant.

Zelda laughed, darkly. They would understand one another deeply on this level. “Of course.”

“Because you were a woman?” Mary threaded her fingers through Zelda’s hair, pulling lightly.

Zelda nodded against Mary’s chest. “You…” she sat up, glanced down at Mary. She had such unreadable eyes sometimes.

Mary smiled then, let her fingers glide into Zelda’s hair, pushing it away from her face. She chewed at her bottom lip before speaking. “Baxter High has had a male principal for far, far too long. I’m not sure if you’re aware of Principal Hawthorne.” And Zelda instantly remembered the night of the tornado – the way in which he had been working Mary Wardwell in the midst of the chaos around them.

“He’s harassing you?” Zelda’s eyes searched Mary’s face.

“Oh,” Mary shrugged, “nothing I can’t handle. It’s only…he’s been in charge for so very, very long and I worry that it…it sends the wrong message to the female students. The way he treats the teachers, the comments he makes, the way he tries to control…to manipulate everyone around him.”

Zelda leaned down and pressed her lips to Mary’s. “If you feel so very strongly about it, perhaps you should take over.”

Mary laughed. “And how might I do that? It’s not as if he would just step aside.”

Zelda’s face alighted, she laid her body square atop Mary’s, put her head between her hands. “We’re witches.” She kissed the side of her cheek, her forehead. “I’m certain you could figure something out.”

Mary’s smile spread wider as she laughed. “Oh, Zelda Spellman. You’re quite a wonder.” Their bodies shifted together, Zelda burying her lips against Mary’s neck. “By the way…” Mary’s voice floated through the air. “Sabrina came to me again.”

Zelda sat up at this. She looked down upon the witch before her. “Why didn’t you begin with this little piece of information? What is it that she wishes to do _now_?”

“She wanted to borrow the _Book of the Dead_.”

“The wha – I hope you did not loan her it!” Zelda snapped, felt her cheeks reddening. Her frustration at her niece mounting. Whatever would she want with _that _book? Zelda had the family copy hidden away in her room for this express reason.

“Well, you want me to stay on her good side so I can let you know what she’s up to…”

“Mary, really. The _Book of the Dead _is not something to be taken lightly. What did she say she wanted it _for_?”

“She didn’t say.”

Zelda growled, removed herself from Mary in frustration. She lighted a cigarette, paced the room. “I mean how idiotic of you. To just _give _it to her.”

“Don’t you trust that I won’t let any harm come to her? I mean really, Zelda, we’re on the same side.”

“Are we?” Zelda fumbled for one of Mary’s robes, feeling too naked, too exposed for just how upset she was.

Mary was on her feet, trying to reach for Zelda who pushed her away. “Zelda, you know that I wouldn’t let her harm herself or anyone else. If she asked for the book I’m sure she was just curious about something…I would think that she would come to you if she needed help doing something…”

“What do you think she wants to do with it?” Zelda moved to the far corner of the room, far away from Mary, whom she was upset with. For she kept undermining her and then happening to mention it wrong-doings after the fact.

“I haven’t a clue. She mentioned something about a séance.”

“A séance!” Zelda laughed, rubbed at her forehead. “She’s hardly a witch and now she wants to perform a séance. I mean, she really has some nerve.”

“Zelda, Zelda.” Mary was reaching for her again. “Remember what we discussed. She needs to make her mistakes.”

“To an extent. Depending upon who she decides to summon there could be grave consequences.”

“We will watch her. Zelda, I told you now so that we can keep an eye on her. We can figure it out before she does something stupid. Zelda, really. You know that between us she won’t harm herself or others.” Mary tried to pull Zelda into her arms and only partially succeeded.

Zelda was furious but as she felt Mary’s body about her she exhaled, a shaky wail emitting from her lips. Sabrina was no longer a child. She was fast-tracking herself right into harm’s way. And Zelda needed to be more vigilant.

She wiped at the stubborn tear that fell from her eye. “For Satan’s sake.”

“Zelda, darling, if she needs help with something I know she will come to you.” Mary rubbed her hands over Zelda’s back.

Zelda allowed Mary to hold her, to reassure her of something that she could not really assure her of. Sabrina’s continued safety. If she kept pulling these stunts there would never be rest. But there had always been this possibility and Zelda had known. Oh, if only Sabrina could be a small child again. Controllable, protectable.

“Come back to bed, Zelda.” Mary unwrapped her from her embrace, reached out for her hand.

“I have to get home.” Zelda coldly shook her head. She needed to feel Letitia in her arms.


	9. Chapter 9

Sabrina had summoned Diana.

Diana who emerged in the chaos of the Yulelads’ demon mother about to claim Letitia for her own. Zelda had been prepared to fight for blood for Letitia, her darling enfant, certain that Diana – the darling, mortal Diana – would side with Zelda. However, Diana had, instead, released the child to the demon.

Zelda had felt her stomach twist and turn in pain as she’d watched Letitia disappear from her grasp, through the door in the arms of that ungrateful demon woman. Her fingernails dug deep into her palms, trying her hardest to stay standing, to listen to what it was that Diana was saying next.

Letitia was safe.

Letitia had not been the enfant whom had just been swept away by that ungrateful demon. That had been a decoy.

But she had felt so real in Zelda’s arms. Her hands had been so warm, her cheeks flushed from the burning yule in the hearth. And then she was just…gone. Until Sabrina brought her to the embalming room and then Zelda clasped the child in her arms, holding her for dear life – but knowing what it was she would have to do. The evening had unfolded around her – Diana disappearing from sight, the Yulelads now vanished from their home, a sense of peace returning.

But Zelda’s mind had been made up, despite the fact that her decision about Letitia was practical and sound, it still hurt. Desmelda would take her, would hide Letitia somewhere safe in the woods.

Even though Zelda hated the thought of Letitia in the woods and not in her bassinet next to Zelda, sleeping soundly.

But she had followed through. She had taken the baby to the edge of the woods. Desmelda had appeared to take the baby into her arms – had looked at Zelda with careful, concerned eyes. Made promises to protect her and Zelda’s senses had all been blurred by pain so that she could only stand there until both Desmelda and Letitia had disappeared out of sight.

Zelda felt her heart had been ripped from her chest in that moment.

Now she sat in the living room. Blank. Distant.

She could feel Hilda watching her, closely, as she made her way to the mini-bar to pour herself a drink with shaky hands. She downed the whiskey and then poured herself another, not knowing what it was she should do with herself now.

Letitia was gone from her.

Fortunately, Faustus had not found her. Unfortunately, some wretched witch had the baby in her care when she belonged with Zelda. Didn’t she?

The second drink was gone before she’d realized what she’d done. She felt a hand on her arm. “Zelda, perhaps you might like a cookie, fresh from the oven.”

Zelda pulled her hand harshly away from her sister’s grasp. “No, I most certainly would not.” She poured another finger, two fingers, of whiskey, the liquid sloshing slightly as she poured.

She took the tumbler to the chair by the fire and lighted a cigarette. She sat numbly, oblivious to the room around her. Sabrina might have asked her something…Hilda tried to say something. Their comments fell on deaf ears.

She wasn’t certain how long she sat, how many times she magicked a little more whiskey into her glass.

She finally felt Hilda near to her, kneeling at her side. “Zelda, she’s safe.”

She felt a tear trail down her cheek, allowing her this because she knew that they were alone in the room. Hilda wiped it away.

“She’s not here. She’s not safe. I promised…I promised Constance…”

“Oh, love.” Hilda tried to reach for her, to comfort her, but Zelda pushed at her. Pushed roughly. Too roughly.

“Don’t…just don’t.” Zelda felt anger coursing through her veins, wrongfully channeled towards her sister.

Hilda stood up, putting distance between them. She smoothed down her dress uneasily. “Don’t sit here all night drinking yourself silly.” And then she turned to walk up the stairs.

And Zelda was glad that Hilda was only going up the stairs and not leaving the house that evening. She couldn’t handle it if Hilda would go to Dr. Cerberus’. Not tonight. Of all nights.

Zelda put a hand to her forehead, upset with herself for having reacted so violently. She had not intended on hurting Hilda. Hilda had not done anything wrong this time and she had acted out.

She lighted a fresh cigarette – considered going to Faustus, for he would punish her, punish her body in just the way she deserved. But she found that her mind was too foggy to make it happen. So, she sat drinking and smoking until she’d run out of cigarettes and hadn’t the energy to create any more.

Her head was spinning by the time she made her way to the bedroom that evening. She had to grasp at the walls of the halls to support herself. Falling against it, she coughed, her lungs inundated with smoke.

But when she came to the door of her bedroom – the bedroom she had once shared with Hilda and then with Letitia - she found she could not enter. She had not the strength nor the courage to push through and go inside. It was too much.

She clamored on, pulling herself drearily through the halls, knocking into photos, probably making entirely too much noise for the late-night hour.

Edward’s bedroom was in the opposite wing. She had to navigate through half the house to reach it, was somehow relieved to find the flicker of firelight and lamplight showing through the crack beneath the door. She knocked, her hand falling limply.

Hilda’s face appeared, none-too-pleased with her for this late-night visit. But upon seeing how out of it Zelda was ,Hilda reached for her, pulled her inside the room, helped her to the bed. Hilda instinctively stood before Zelda, let her fingers move to her collar to undo her jacket, to begin the slow, familiar process of undressing her inebriated sister. And Zelda, knowing her eyes were bloodshot from the smoke, her mind nearly blank from the drink, allowed Hilda to care for her as she had not for some time.

Her eyes kept slipping shut, the memory of the horrific, but correct, thing she had done would surface and the pain would catch her off-guard, make her chest knot in unspeakable agony. She felt the tears falling, could feel as Hilda brushed at her cheeks, offered sweet little words of assurance. “It’s alright, love.” “You did the right thing, Zelds.” “The baby is safe.”

And Zelda reached for her sister, needed her close to her for Hilda knew far more of Zelda than any other earthly creature in this realm. She and Hilda had been through it all together, had stood side-by-side. Hilda knew the dark recesses of Zelda’s being. And Zelda needed to feel that she was not alone so Hilda allowed her to take her into her arms, to press their lips together in support.

“Oh, Zelda. You taste like an ashtray.” Hilda pulled away, smoothed Zelda’s hair down. “Let’s get you to bed, lovey. Come on.” Hilda pulled back the bedsheets and eased Zelda down, tucked her in and then moved to extinguish the lamp, to pull back the sheets of the other side of the bed and slid in.

“Hold me.” Zelda whimpered blurrily in the quiet air between them.

And Hilda did, putting her arms about her in a warm embrace. Zelda found her body relax against Hilda’s. It was the only relief she’d had the entire day. She felt Hilda’s warmth, her magic radiating between them. Hilda was already putting her back together so that she would sleep off what she had just done to her body and awake refreshed in the morning. No sign of the drinks and the cigarettes.

She dozed off, contented, her mind going blank.

* * *

It was somewhere in the early hours of the morning that Zelda had awoken. The fire had died in the hearth, the ashes burned down, leaving a slight fog in the air. The new light of dawn came fluttering through the half-shuttered windows, casting a nearly angelic glow upon her darling, sleeping sister.

Zelda watched the even rise and fall of her chest, listened to the slight rush of air that resulted in a peaceful little snore that she had once found so annoying, yet had grown accustomed to it. Now, as she laid beside her sister as she had not for many months, the sound comforted her.

She allowed her finger to trace down the side of Hilda’s face, reminded of all the times that it had only been the two of them. Behind closed doors, hidden away from the world. Her cheek was a fond memory, her lips like home, her eyes – which fluttered open in the early morning light – were like two vast seas that they had traversed together. All that Hilda had seen, Zelda had also witnessed.

Hilda’s dark blue eyes – a great contrast from Mary’s – studied Zelda curiously.

Zelda’s finger moved to run beneath her lip and Hilda responded by lowering her mouth to pull Zelda’s digit between her teeth. Zelda smiled for the first time in days. “Oh, Hildie.” She whispered, cupping Hilda’s chin in her hand before leaning down to press their lips together. “I’ve missed you.”

Hilda’s hands went about Zelda’s waist, holding her close as the older woman moved to cover Hilda, to drape herself over her. Their bodies remembered. It had been far too long, but there was a certain sad excitement to this. Zelda had assumed that with Dr. Cerberus in the picture this may not occur, but Hilda was responding to her wholly.

Their mouths opened to one another, Hilda letting her fingers caress over Zelda’s behind, pulling the elder Spellman closer to her. Zelda was wet, had been since Hilda had taken her finger into her mouth and now she wanted that finger in another of Hilda’s moist areas.

There was a shuffle of Hilda’s nightdress, Zelda shifting it so that she could take Hilda’s ample breasts into her hands, stopping to suckle each one decadently, lavishly. She wondered if Dr. Cerberus took his time to worship Hilda’s magnificent bosom as Zelda so lovingly did. Hilda was watching her, desire flashing in those deep blues.

Zelda let her hand move down, to slide into Hilda’s underwear, delighted that she could elicit such a response as what she felt coating her fingers. Hilda moved against her hand, gasped in that adorably shy way she had when Zelda moved inside of her. She pressed little feathery kisses to Hilda’s lips, allowed their bodies to move together, to feel Hilda bare against her. And she smelled of vanilla and flowers and honey and Zelda wanted to eat her up…would eat her up if the morning stretched on as it currently was.

And when Hilda started grasping for her, pulsing furiously against her, she knew that she had done her job well. She smiled when Hilda fell back against the bed, panting, warm, her body trembling and Zelda let her ride it out until she could open her eyes again.

Zelda felt a wash of relief at being able to give that to her sister.

And Hilda, upon catching her breath, turned to Zelda. She practically pinned her to bed, looking down into eyes. “Now let me take care of you.”

And Zelda allowed it. She fell back against the pillows after her release in a fit of tears for Hilda’s magic went deep. Hilda had always been able to release the dam of emotions inside of her and Zelda both loathed and appreciated what her sister could do.

Her body twisted in pain and anger and Hilda wrapped her in her arms again and held her until the house began to stir.

* * *

Zelda lifted the tea cup to her lips, then settled it back on the saucer without taking a sip.

Mary noticed this motion, turned from the fire to look at Zelda.

“It was you.” Zelda met Mary’s bright, brilliant blue eyes.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Mary innocently sipped her tea.

Zelda laughed low and deep. “You knew from the beginning that Sabrina wanted to get in contact with her mother so you became her.”

Mary feigned surprise.

Zelda rolled her eyes.

Mary dropped the act. “I was only trying to help.”

“Well, it did give her a certain sense of peace. It’s only…you lied to me again.”

“I wasn’t going to let anything bad happen.”

Zelda frowned again. “But why go through all the trouble to protect Letitia as you did?”

Mary shrugged, put down her own tea cup and saucer. “I was worried for her safety. As you mentioned, Father Blackwood is not one for having a female heir and I only worried that if he were to come to you, you see, and find her there…”

Zelda’s eyebrow rose. “You wanted to protect her.”

Mary had stood from her chair, was coming closer to Zelda. She took the teacup from her, placing it on the table beside her own. “I was only looking out for you.” And Mary leaned down, moving her hair from her face, cupping Zelda’s cheeks between her hands. “And for Sabrina.”

Zelda lifted her chin for Mary’s kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

The end of the whip seared as it landed against her skin.

She was naked, laid bare to Faustus and his flagellations.

Penance. She’d confessed to a multitude of sins.

Everything except the one thing that really mattered. Taking Letitia. She would never tell him, but she knew that she deserved this at his hands.

Her eyes stung with tears. It was the most intense whipping she had endured to date. She let him strike her again. How many times had it been? Thirty? Fifty? Seventy-five? A hundred?

Her skin was raw. As the whip tore into her again she felt it creating a gash in her skin. She could tell that she was bleeding. There were tears trailing down her cheeks, her knees had given out, she was on the floor.

“Zelda,” she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“I di…didn’t say to st-stop.” She wept.

“No.” He stated firmly, pulling her up from the ground, practically carrying her in his arms to sit her atop his bed. “There’s blood.”

She buried her face in his pillows. They smelled of him, his strong cologne that clung to every inch of his domain. She always left smelling of him.

He returned with bandages and covered the deep gashes. His attempts to heal her were laughable, especially in comparison to Hilda, but she allowed him this. To pretend as if he were helping her.

She was sore, tender, swollen. She shifted her legs together, found herself appallingly wet. Her fingers, unashamedly, slid between her own legs, rubbing shamelessly. Faustus’ ministrations ceased as he realized what it was she was doing.

“Dear Satan, what a licentious thing you are.” He swore.

She felt his body cover hers, his lips crashing against the pulse point in her neck, his hand snaking around to cover hers. He felt her motions, guided her against herself as if she couldn’t do it without him. The feel of his chest rubbing against her marred back stung, she called out in pain. He grabbed her hair, held her head back and up, pressing his greedy mouth against hers and she felt disgusting.

He shoved her head into the pillow, he lifted her hips to him, entering her. Strong, proud. He crashed their bodies together, she cried into the pillow.

The final, deserved, humiliation occurred when she heard Prudence’s voice drifting closer, calling out for her father. Zelda scrambled away from Faustus, trying to cover herself with the sheets. She did not want to be seen, to be known in this way. Not yet – Faustus was supposed to be in mourning for his wife.

But she heard him laughing over her, listened as he called out to Prudence to give him a moment. He held his daughter off, reaching to keep Zelda from hiding so that he could finish inside of her.

She yelped into the pillows, reached frantically at the sheets to cover herself as she listened to Faustus get up from the bed and sufficiently cover himself so that he could appropriately answer his door. Zelda listened from her hidden spot, breathing heavily, to the issue Prudence had come across in caring for darling Judas.

She prayed to Satan that she was not visible to the teen.

* * *

The warmth of the fireplace soothed the tension in her back. She yawned and stretched atop the pile of pillows and blankets they had created to have a picnic before the fire. The picnic had dissolved into feeding one another while languorously shedding one article of clothing after another until Zelda had opened herself up to be taken, slowly, sensually. 

Now she rested her head atop Mary’s lap. Naked, sated.

As she shifted, her legs brushing together achingly, she looked at her breast as it was laid bare before the blazing fire. She watched the shadow of flames dancing across her exposed nipple.

A strong, finely veined hand slid to cup the breast, to pinch the pert nipple between two red fingernails. Zelda hummed, pressed a kiss lazily against Mary’s thigh. They were celebrating. Mary was now Principal Mary Wardwell.

The board of Baxter High had unanimously voted her into the position upon Principal Hawthorne’s unfortunate death. A bear attack. In the woods. His body had been discovered two weeks after Christmas by several hunters. The teeth marks in his skin had been likened to the large mammal.

Only Zelda was wise to the fact that Mary had had a hand in his demise. How she had made it so very believable, Zelda could not quite comprehend. But Mary had succeeded in her mission beauteously. She had succeeded.

Zelda watched as Mary’s fingers moved from her breast to a beautiful red apple that sat on the platter before them. Mary lifted the apple up and sunk her teeth into its flesh before holding it out to Zelda to take. Zelda studied the bite mark, how very deep and thorough it was. She sat up, turning to look into Mary’s crystal blue eyes. Mary’s hand moved to brush a strand of Zelda’s hair from her cheek. Zelda placed her lips to the ridge where Mary had bitten and the flesh of the apple. She bit into the juicy morsel. Mary’s hand covered hers, held her gaze as she bit into the apple in turn and then she pulled Zelda close to her, pressed their lips together so that they might kiss, lips sticky and sweet.

Zelda smiled as she sat back and took the apple back. She had forgotten this old tradition.

Mary’s hand trailed over her shoulder, outlined the healing ridge of a gash.

Zelda shrugged her away.

“You’re in pain. I can tell.” Mary took back the apple, finished it off and before tossing the pit into the fireplace. The smell of burning apple fragranced the room.

“I’m not.” Zelda sniffed, reaching around for her cigarette case. “Hilda must have missed a spot.” Zelda lighted the cigarette in her holder and turned back to look at Mary, to tilt her chin upwards to exhale a cloud of smoke into the air above them.

Mary reached for her again, crawled so that she came behind her. She placed her hands over her shoulder and Zelda felt the warmth, the power of her touch. She could sense the skin shifting and molding to her will.

“You love your sister very much.” Mary stated.

Zelda laughed, flinched as Mary manipulated her roughly – very unlike Hilda who took considerable time and care to make sure Zelda was put back together carefully, tenderly. Mary, she could tell, was a competent healer, but her methods seemed archaic. “She’s not really my sister, you know. Not by blood anyway.”

“I thought not.” Mary did not sound surprised by this revelation.

“She was - ” Zelda flinched as Mary touched another tender spot. “She was married to my brother, Gregory, before he passed away. It was more a…uh, a marriage of convenience. She…she was always so very good at taking care of things. Of me. We became…close. I can’t imagine life without her.” Zelda felt foolishly as if she might cry. There was something so very annoyingly endearing about her darling Hilda. Thoughts of their most recent night together sprung to mind, made her wish that Hilda would finally move back to _their_bedroom. “She balances me. I’m not always so kind or patient. Especially not with Sabrina.”

Mary’s lips met with Zelda’s shoulder. “I think you’ve done an excellent job with her. She needs someone to care for her. Rigorously.”

Zelda’s eyebrow rose at that.

Mary’s hands moved down her back and she realized the pain had subsided. “Why is it that you allow him this?”

“I carelessly stole his daughter; don’t you think I deserve some penance?”

“No.” Mary turned Zelda to face her, wrapping her up in her arms as she laid them down atop the pillows. They looked at one another in the firelight. Zelda exhaled a cloud of smoke, Mary took the cigarette from her. She exhaled a cloud of smoke and let the cigarette fall into an ashtray near the makeshift bed. She cupped Zelda’s cheek, pulled her close so that they could kiss, smoke seeping between their lips. They pulled apart, Mary trailing her fingers down Zelda’s cheek, caressing her face, let her fingers ghost over Zelda’s lips. “You wish to be High Priestess of the coven.”

“Wh- no.” Zelda shook her head. She had denied it so easily for so long that it was like a reflex to deny it again.

Mary smiled. “You were born to be High Priestess, Zelda.” She leaned in, pressed her lips to the corner of Zelda’s.

“No,” Zelda protested against her lips.

“Why are you denying it?” Mary caught her arm before she could push her away, held it roughly between them.

Zelda looked into those crystal blue eyes. They were hypnotic. She felt she could tell her anything in that moment. “There has never been a High Priest-ESS.” Zelda gritted out through clenched teeth.

“And who’s to say there can’t be one? And why not you. You know more about being the High Priest than any of those dim-witted warlocks.”

“How would _you _know?” Zelda fought to take her hand back but Mary held strong.

“Need I remind you that I studied under Edward. I watched him in his dealings as High Priest and I know for a fact that he would consult you on nearly every matter he faced. Besides, you were born to a family of High Priests, were you not?”

“Yes, but…” Zelda’s brow furrowed.

“You deserve that title, Zelda Spellman. You must _take it_.”

“How?” Zelda pulled her wrist free from Mary, reaching for the still burning cigarette.

Mary moved closer to her, as if Zelda might run from her. Their legs tangled together, Mary’s hand slid into her hair. “I think,” Mary pulls her closer to kiss her, heatedly. They’re working up to something again. “You _should_marry Father Blackwood. But…” she cups Zelda’s breasts in her hand, rolling her nipple in that way that Zelda so enjoyed. “But let’s make it seem like it’s on his terms.”

Zelda was horrified but aroused by her words. “And how might _we _do that?”

“Push him off. Don’t let him have you. Remind him of his mourning period.” Mary bit her earlobe, climbed closer to press her lips to her ear. “It will drive him wild to not have you.” She bit at Zelda’s neck, letting her hand slid down between Zelda’s legs but not yet touching her so that Zelda writhed against her. “And then he’ll make a mistake and the coven…” Mary stroked Zelda once. “The coven will be yours.”

And the thought of having that power, of being in control in the way that she had always wanted made her wild with want. It took only a few gentle caresses before Zelda was gone, lost on the idea of herself as High Priestess.


	11. Chapter 11

“I saw you with Father Blackwood this evening. Looking very chummy, I must say.” Hilda hummed as she helped Zelda out of her dress. Zelda smelled of hookah and cigarettes and that expensive perfume she only wore on special occasions.

She was intoxicated, contented with how the evening turned out. She had felt Faustus’ eyes on her during _The Passion of Lucifer Morningstar_. She had sensed him watching her while she had watched on through teary eyes at her niece on the stage. Sabrina’s performance had been superlative, better than she could have imagined – even if Sabrina had ended up on her knees before Nicholas. Even though Zelda was certain she’d witnessed their first kiss. How sweet it had been – longer than necessary for the stage, but she supposed that was young love. Impulsive and demonstrative.

She wondered, knowing Nicholas, if she should be concerned. Though the kiss had looked genuinely virgin enough.

Conversely, the kiss_she_had shared with Faustus hidden away in the hallway of Dorian Grey’s was something much less chaste, much more _passionate_.

“Yes.” Zelda took her dress from Hilda to hang in the closet.

She had returned to her, was now sleeping in her bed where she belonged. She always came back.

“It’s only a matter of time before he proposes.”

Hilda froze mid-undressing and looked at Zelda in the mirror of her vanity. “You’re going to…but isn’t it…Bu-but you don’t love him.” Hilda’s voice was a whisper – she wrung her shirt in her hands as if she was afraid Zelda might kill her.

Zelda turned to her sister, laughed. “_Love_. Love has nothing to do with this. Love rarely has anything to do with it.” Zelda picked up her robe, wrapped it about herself. She moved to Hilda, took her shirt from her hands, helped Hilda out of her bra. Hilda’s breasts sprang free, Zelda’s eyes moved to the hardened nipples. She allowed herself to cup one, to run her finger over the nipple. She leaned forward, moved close enough to whisper into her ear. “I think you know the only person whom I _love_.”

Hilda shuddered.

* * *

It’s impulsive.

She was restless and it was Saturday. The other inhabitants of the Spellman Mortuary were otherwise preoccupied with their significant others.

Zelda found that she couldn’t simply sit smoking and reading the Italian newspaper all day – however fascinating their news might be. The house was empty and far too quiet.

She put on her finest and took the hearse, smoking a cigarette out the side of her mouth without her holder. The way she liked to drive sometimes.

The cottage seemed different and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it until she rang the doorbell and saw the surprised and slightly rattled look in Mary Wardwell’s eyes when she opened the door. “Zelda Spellman, I didn’t expect _you_today.”

Zelda’s brow furrowed as she paused in removing her driving gloves. She was surprised by how wet she was just from having anticipated what the day might bring, but her stomach flipped for she realized that something wasn’t right.

The door widened and Zelda caught sight of a man passing into the room with a plate in his hand.

“Who is it Mary?” He called out.

“Oh, just my dearest friend, Zelda.” Mary called back all sugar and honey, but her face was projecting something akin to confusion and uncertainty.

“Well invite her to lunch, darling.” The man looked up and Zelda caught sight of his face.

“Dr. Masters?” Zelda squinted and then she knew.

He looked up. “Zelda, Zelda Spellman.” He sat down the dish he was holding and moved to her, extended his hand to her. She took it. “So lovely to see you again.”

She had thought he was overseas. Indefinitely. “When did you get back?”

“Oh, on Valentine’s Day. I wanted to surprise this one here.” He smiled charmingly and took a stolid Mary into his arms.

“I had no idea.” Zelda smiled, looked between them. How did Dr. Masters – whom she had known casually from working at the mortuary and handling cases with the local hospital – know Mary Wardwell?

“Yes, Adam is…my fiancé.” There was a catch of uncertainty, a lack of clarity in Mary’s tone. Zelda looked at her. Surprised.

“Fiancé?”

“Yes.” Adam nodded. “I proposed right before I left for Physicians Without Frontiers.”

“How very romantic.” Zelda spoke through clenched teeth.

Mary looked apologetic. There was something off about this.

Mary Wardwell had no idea who this man was. She let him touch her and Zelda could tell that there had been intimacies between them, but there was a lack of familiarity. It was as if she had no idea that she had been engaged at all.

Dr. Masters would have left over a year ago. Mary had been different then. Mary was different now.

This…this woman before her who had ripped her apart before the fireplace only inches from where they were standing had no idea that she had a fiancé.

Who the heavens was she then?

It was simple enough to freeze out the mortal. He stiffened in the tableau of giving Mary the most disgustingly admiring look.

“Who are you?” Zelda’s voice was low.

Mary shrunk appreciatively from Adam’s arms. She moved towards Zelda, tried to grasp her but Zelda pulled away.

“No, you are not Mary Wardwell. What Hell sent creature are you?” Zelda held up her hands.

Mary was laughing. “I’m not going to harm you, Zelda.”

“Who are you?” Zelda reiterated, her elocution immaculate.

Mary sighed. “How long do you think you can hold him?”

“Long enough.”

* * *

She felt like she might be sick as she sped down the tree-lined roads back to Greendale proper. 

She had been stupid. So, so very stupid.

Mary Wardwell was no witch. Mary Wardwell had never known Edward. Mary Wardwell had never been in love with a mortal – unless she loved this Adam Masters now. Mary was as good as dead.

And Zelda had been idiotic to fall for it all. She had believed. Why had she believed when she was always so very good at figuring out the truth about things?

She had poisoned her. The tea. It was the only logical conclusion she could come to. There had always been the tea, readily available. Just as Hilda slipped her calming teas Mary –

No. She was not Mary.

Lilith had slipped her some sort of sedative tea.

She felt disgusting, used.

What was Lilith doing at Baxter High?

Zelda slammed the breaks on the hearse, the car careening, practically completing a full circle but landing perfectly on the side of the road. Zelda could hardly breathe; her hands clasped tightly at the steering wheel.

Sabrina.

Lilith had been after Sabrina.

Whatever for? What would Lilith want with her niece?

She’s furious.

Stepping on the accelerator she straightened out the car only to slam on the breaks again because there was a figure standing in the middle of the road.

“Satan!” Zelda cursed and slammed her hands against the steering wheel. Her heart hammered in her chest.

She took several calming breaths before pushing open the car door with her heel and stepping out.

Mary – no. Lilith was standing before her.

“You must know that this must stay between us.”

Zelda laughed, stepped towards the creature. She refused to show fear in the presence of this deity even though the gravity of what it is she had done to her – to Lilith! _The Lilith_. From the Unholy Bible no less! – was weighing on her. “Stay away from me. Stay away from my family. I don’t want you advising Sabrina _any_longer.”

“Zelda,” Lilith tried to grasp for her arm but she pulled away. “Zelda, I do not wish to harm Sabrina. I am trying to protect her from the Dark Lord’s will.”

Zelda laughed even louder at this. “Protect her _from_the Dark Lord’s will? And why the heavens would you want to do that? He is the Dark Lord and we serve him.”

There’s a look that crossed through Mary’s eyes. It’s a look that Zelda had seen before, a pained expression she remembered from when she happened to catch Mary – no, Lilith – deep in thought. She looked fragile, standing before her now. So very…human. Not at all like the spectacular demon Lilith.

“Please, Zelda…”

“Don’t.” Zelda pleaded, feeling those endearing feelings that had led her to trust this…thing before her. “Stay away.” And Zelda returned to the hearse without looking back.

Somehow, she knew that Mary was no longer there.

* * *

When Faustus proposed to her she agreed.

She gave him what she had been denying him for the previous few weeks. Needing it herself, needing to rid herself of the feeling of Mary Wardwell – no.

Lilith.

Lilith, who no longer mattered because Zelda Spellman would soon be the High Priestess. She cared deeply for the Church, for the coven. Lilith was a heretic. Lilith spelled destruction. If she had stooped so low as to cross the Dark Lord.

Zelda tried to push aside the uncertain feelings that erupted when she thought of the Dark Lord. The things that had been happening recently when it came to Sabrina and the Dark Lord made Zelda silently question…but she had lasted for millennia believing in _his_will. It could not be false.

It simply could not.

There was a certain level of trust that Zelda maintained in the Church, in Faustus. He shared her reverence for the Church, for the way things _should_be. He was steady, solid. Perhaps he was rough with her, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

And Zelda knew that Faustus was Faustus.

Mary Wardwell was not Mary Wardwell.

Zelda should have known.

She hated herself for crying silently in her sleep that night, careful not to rouse Hilda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry if I've lost you. I know this is a lot, but I (hopefully) promise it will all make some sense in the end. If you bare with me! :)


	12. Chapter 12

Lilith came to her in dreams.

She did unspeakable, horrible, dirty, terrible things that Zelda had only ever _imagined_possible but had never actually had the courage in waking life to attempt. And she had done many things.

Lilith was cold, expressionless, hard, all the ways she had not been with Zelda in waking life. She seemed to know Zelda’s weaknesses and tried to prey on them.

But Zelda would end up strangling her, smacking her roughly against a wall, throwing her down stairs, running her over in a car, tossing her off a cliff, a building…

She was livid with the demoness.

Lilith reappeared night after night. Zelda pushed her away again and again. Not wanting to listen to her, to hear what she had to say.

Zelda shouted, yelled, clawed at her. Did everything in her power to make her go away.

“Would you listen to me?” Lilith had finally smacked her in the face to get her to stop. Zelda had startled, fell back, real tears stinging at her eyes from the force of the blow. “You mustn’t marry Faustus.”

Zelda laughed. “First you told me to marry him and now you’ve changed your mind.”

“I was wrong.” Lilith tried to reach for her.

She jerked away, out of Lilith’s grasp.

“It is the Dark Lord’s will that you marry him, but I…I can’t…”

“If it is the Dark Lord’s will then I _will_marry him.” Zelda spat in her face.

Lilith wiped at the mucus.

“I am a devoted disciple of the Church of Night and if it is the will of the Dark Lord then I will obey.”

Lilith laughed then. “Oh, Zelda. You’ve gone dreadfully conservative in your old age. You forget what the Church of Night has done to you. Denied you your rightful place as the High Priestess. Kept you from advancing in your position because you were a woman…”

“Enough.” Zelda covered her ears. Not wanting to hear. She leapt forward and tackled Lilith to the ground, strangling her. “I _will_be High Priestess. By marrying Faustus, I will secure my rightful place.”

“It’s foolish. You’ll only get hurt...I don't want...” Lilith coughed as Zelda applied more pressure to her throat. Until she choked for real and suddenly her body disappeared from beneath Zelda.

And Zelda startled awake to the feeling of hands on her shoulders, pushing at her.

“Zelds,” Hilda coughed, barely able to breathe. “You were having a bad dream.”

Zelda awakens the light of a bedside lamp and her hands clasped tightly about Hilda’s neck.

“Oh, Hilda!” Zelda released her grasp on her sister and fell back, frightened.

The dreams were getting out of hand.

* * *

Hilda pointedly refused to cross Zelda – she even went so far as to congratulate her when she saw the turtle dove hearts. Zelda knew that Hilda knew she would kill her if she tried to outwardly thwart her plans.

But Hilda constantly forgot things. First the floral arrangements, then the cake tasting fiasco, followed by a wedding gown mishap. Zelda began to wonder if Hilda was doing it on purpose.

It annoyed her.

Because if she were honest with herself she knew that there was some truth to Hilda’s quiet objections.

It was the more spirited Sabrina that was really getting on Zelda’s nerves.

The more the girl protested and fought and rummaged about in the past for some reason for Zelda to not move forward with the wedding, the harder it became for Zelda to swallow the pill she was about to. So, she lashed out at Sabrina. Threatened to remove her from the wedding entirely.

If she could not get on board with Zelda’s plans then she certainly should not participate.

The nit-wit half-breed was speaking the truth. About many things. But Zelda would have to suspend her grasp on reality. Because she was to be High Priestess.

This was her trial and tribulation and she would bear the brunt of it herself. She did not need her family pitying her, knocking her down at every turn. 

She knew the man whom she was marrying and she knew what he was capable of.

* * *

She feigned a brave face the night before the wedding. She was relieved to have Hilda at her side, waiting with her.

But she knew that they both knew that she was uneasy. 

Hilda had been antsy, nervous. But she didn’t say anything to offend Zelda, so that Zelda couldn't pick a fight with her to get rid of her nerves. Hilda only tried to comfort her because she knew, as well as Zelda did that Zelda was afraid. That Zelda did not want to be claimed by the Dark Lord.

There was the ritual bath that Hilda attended her with. They were surrounded by rose petals and candles and had it been any other night under any other circumstances, Zelda would have pulled Hilda into the water with her.

But it was not that sort of night and Zelda did not feel that sort of way.

Hilda understood this. She washed her diligently, meticulously, whispered the incantation, and then helped her into her golden robe.

They sat side-by-side on the bed. Waiting.

Zelda’s hand slid into Hilda’s.

* * *

She couldn’t say she had been relieved by the interruption of the Unholy Pope’s death.

Because Ambrose had been implicated.

And she had been unable to face her sister and niece as Faustus and his bloodhounds had searched the house. Her ears rang with the deafening cry of “Hail Satan, Hail Judas!” She’d cringed at the statement, thankful that Faustus could not see her disapproval.

Hilda had caught her eye in that moment, had given her a concerned look. She smoothed her hands over her blue dress, reassured Hilda with her eyes that she knew what she was doing.

And she followed Faustus from the mortuary, pleased that Ambrose had not been there.

Faustus grabbed her wrist roughly in the backseat of his car.

She hissed in pain.

He didn’t look at her. “If you know where Ambrose is then I command that you tell me. As you will be my wife tomorrow, you might as well begin taking your duties seriously. You cannot protect a traitor, even if he is family.”

Zelda shook her wrist free, rubbed at the tender skin. “I can assure you that I am as unaware of his location as you are.”

Faustus did not speak again until they were returned to the Academy, to his office. She moved to pour herself another drink, for the one at the mortuary had not been enough. But Faustus caught her roughly, surprising her. The glass fell from her hand. He spun her to face him and his hand landed rough and hard against her cheek. And then he punched her in the stomach.

She thought of Lilith as she doubled over, clasping her face in her hands.

Shock ricocheted through her body. Her nose was bleeding.

“Your obligations no longer lay with the Spellman’s. You will help me find Ambrose and he will receive his just punishment.”

Zelda sagged against the wall. “If I know my nephew, he had nothing to do with – “

Faustus slapped her again. “Lies. We both know of his involvement in attempting to blow up the Unholy Vatican. Stop fooling yourself, Zelda.”

Zelda could feel blood and tears mixing on her cheeks. She clumsily reached for a towel atop the wet bar and folded onto the floor, pressing it against her nose. “I suspect,” she paused to spit blood, “he will make an appearance tomorrow. At the wedding. You should be able to capture him then. But I beg you…please allow a formal investigation to be made before you kill him.”

Faustus’ fists bunched at his side. His face contorted, the uncontrollable rage washing through him. She could see it morphing into something that might resemble shame. She could almost see the sad face of a young boy and she _almost_felt sorry for him.

“I make no promises.” Though his voice had softened. “Now get yourself cleaned up. You must look presentable for the wedding tomorrow.”

Zelda leaned her head back against the wall, eyes sliding shut as tears fell from the corners of them. Her face stung. It was hard to concentrate on the spell to heal herself.

“Did he…” Faustus was still standing before her. She heard the jealousy in his tone.

She shook her head. “No.” 


	13. Chapter 13

Hilda and Sabrina had been there to see her off.

She thought about them as she flew across the Atlantic seated next to a dozing Faustus. His body had been so taut in the car, still livid about Ambrose’s interruption of their nuptials. It had taken much persuasion to only lock Ambrose away for the time being and not to kill him.

Zelda had done shameful, unspeakable things in order to protect him and to seal the deal with Faustus.

The rest of the ceremony was very unconventional, drab, dry.

Her stomach was knotted. She kept seeing Hilda sitting beside Sabrina across from the Academy, her face so grim.

She had sworn Hilda to protect their niece and nephew. She had sworn her to do anything and everything to keep Sabrina from Ms. Wardwell. She had backed Hilda into a corner making her promise up and down that she wouldn’t let anything get out of hand while she was away.

But Zelda knew, instinctively, that things would not go as smoothly as all that. She knew there would be messes to clean up when she returned from this blasted honeymoon.

She caught the eye of a passing air hostess, inquired about another bottle of gin. She had lost count of the number of bottles she’d had but without her normal vice – for it was expressly forbidden to smoke aboard the plane – she had taken to downing drinks.

She noticed that her hand was shaking. She watched the tremors, appalled by her lack of control.

And there…what was that about her wrist? She pushed back her glove and sleeve and found a bruise.

She felt eyes on her then.

Someone was watching her very intently.

She covered her wrist and looked up, looked to the man seated across the aisle from her, to the people before and behind her. But no one was paying her any mind.

The air hostess returned with her drink.

She rummaged through her bag, in search of the pills she’d secretly stashed away. If she were to be stuck on this damned plane with her body so tense and her mind so unsettled and without cigarettes, then she wanted to pass out.

And after the next bottle of gin, she did.

* * *

She walked behind Faustus.

She stood just to the left and behind him when they presented the ashes of the Anti-Pope. This was customary. This was to be expected of her. She did not question it in the presence of the Vatican members – all men.

And once that pesky business was taken care of, she walked behind Faustus until he slowed his pace to match hers, put his arm through hers. It rather shocked her, she realized. They walked along the cobbled streets, surrounded by the antiquated city, taking in the sights. She was drowsy from the flight still, from having drank too much, and then the pills.

She didn’t know what to expect from Faustus, but he was holding her gently as if he also didn’t know what to expect from her.

She realized that they only knew one another in the confines of Greendale and the Academy and everything tied up in that. There was a tension that loosened as they walked down the beautiful streets of Rome.

They sat at a cafe near the Trevi Fountain, Zelda transfixed by the water. She smoked a cigarette, Faustus watched her.

She felt eyes on her again.

There was a familiar flash of something, someone that caught her eye. She turned to look, but found unfamiliar faces passing, not giving her a second glance.

Who was watching her?

“You’re exquisite, Zelda Spellman Blackwood.” He leaned forward, twirled his fingers into her perfectly styled hair, let his hand caress her neck roughly.

She puffed a cloud of smoke into the sky. He was different so far away from what had just happened. Charming, perhaps a bit shy.

She remembered then how he had used to be, back when they had all been in school together. He had been so very focused on his studies, on becoming High Priest. She did not remember him dicking around like the other boys. He took things seriously. She had appreciated his focus, his drive, and determination. It was what had drawn her to him before…

She tapped her ashes off in the ashtray. “I think we shall make a fine team, Faustus.” She lifted her cigarette to her lips again and inhaled.

“Put that out.” Faustus spoke quietly but firmly.

Her brow furrowed as smoke passed from her lips. She laughed, incredulous. “But I can’t possibly just…”

“I don’t think the wife of a High Priest should smoke. It’s not becoming.” His gaze bore into her.

She laughed again, uneasy. “Faustus…”

His fingernail pressed into her neck.

She felt her cheeks redden. For him to so openly humiliate her like this, before all the tourists and people of Rome who were passing by, sitting near to them at the café, it made her stomach twist.

She crushed the cigarette in the ashtray and immediately longed for the damned thing.

* * *

They had dinner at Imàgo. Zelda’s hand shook under the table and she stared enviously at the other patrons enjoying a smoke.

Faustus was an absolute gentleman. Helping her into her seat, ordering her dinner for her in perfect Italian.

And while, in her fantasies of their honeymoon she had imagined them discussing witch law, the coven practices, the trials and tribulations of the High Priest station – she found that she was far too distracted by nicotine depravation. She promised herself that when Faustus went to sleep that night, she would sneak out for some relief. He could not hold her forever.

They spoke of trivial, cold things. The current weather, how nice the Vatican had been, how lovely Zelda looked in her deep Emerald evening dress, how beautiful Rome was, how nice it was to see it again. It was idiotic talk that Zelda had sat through thousands of times before.

Not the sort of talk she wanted to have with her _husband,_the High Priest.

The thought made her stomach twist again.

She had promised herself that she would plead for Faustus to investigate the Anti-Pope’s death further. It had to be a conspiracy. Why else had the whole scene been paused, as if the boys had wanted to be found out? Ambrose would never do something so stupid as that…if he were to kill someone he would have been much stealthier.

She wondered if Faustus had thought of that.

“You know, Faustus, it all doesn’t make sense. When we entered the Anti-Pope’s room…”

“Zelda.” Faustus’ hand fell over hers on the table. “This isn’t the time or place to talk about such things.”

She sat back, baffled, taking her hand from beneath his.

He sat back, adjusted his napkin atop his lap. “Besides, it’s of no concern to you now. As the High Priestess your duties are to care for Judas and to serve at my side. You will not be instigating an investigation. That will remain up to me when and if I see fit to do so.”

“But it is my nephew…”

Faustus silenced her with a look.

She clenched her foot angrily in her shoe. Pushing back from the table, she rose.

Faustus stood with her, a perfect gentleman. He moved to her side, pulled back her chair. “I’ll smell the smoke on your breath, so don’t even try.”

She pulled away from him and moved through the restaurant to the restroom.

She locked herself in a stall, felt rage filling her body. She didn’t have a cigarette, even if she’d wanted one. Her hand fell roughly against the marbled wall.

She closed her eyes, her head spinning. She tried to remember a spell, something that might ease her cravings, her pain. Her forehead fell against the cool surface of the wall, her hand slapping it repetitively. She couldn’t think.

She heard the bathroom door open and close. The click of heels on the marbled floor. It was a confident gait. There was a familiar perfume that swirled through the air, something memorable in the energy of this person currently inhabiting the room with her.

Zelda put a hand to her chest, tried to calm her breathing, falling back against the wall.

The other woman had paused, seemed to be standing somewhere outside the bathroom stall. Not moving. Hardly even breathing.

Zelda put her hand on the lock, her fingers shook. Somehow, she knew who would be there if she opened the door and she wanted her to go away.

“Why are you following me?” Zelda whispered.

The heels moved to the other side of the stall door, she felt a body press against the door. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“He’s not hurting me.” Zelda leaned against the door, put a hand to her spinning head.

“It’s beginning and you’re allowing it…”

“I am not. I am in complete control.” Zelda hissed, felt her heart racing. “Go away.”

“Zelda, I’m worried about…”

“Bullshit.” Zelda pulled the door open, ready to face the woman but found only her own reflection in the mirror across from the bathroom stall.

She looked positively ill.

Where had _she _gone?

* * *

He took her to the hotel.

She felt half-dead. Her head was spinning, she was exhausted from the flight, the time change.

The hotel door closed behind her and he had her pressed against its surface, his lips on her neck, his fingers working the zipper at the back of her dress. She was in no mood, no state to give to him, but it was their first night of marriage and she had an obligation. There were rituals, rules to this.

He pulled at his ascot, undid the buttons on his jacket as her dress fell to the ground. She dropped her purse, he removed her bustier, suckled at her breasts, she let her head fall back against the door and then he was dragging her away from its steady surface, pushing her into the glass of the hotel window. So that the whole of Rome could see her naked body if they happened to look up high enough. He removed her underwear, rubbed her as she stared out at the illuminated city before her.

She could feel him warming up behind her, pressing against the back of her thigh. His other hand came back to her breast, cupping it roughly. She rode against his hand, feeling weak. Her body lost its center of gravity and she very nearly fell. His strong arms caught her.

“I want you to be alert for this.” He shook her, turned her so that her behind pressed into the cold glass.

_She _was standing in the corner of the room.

Zelda’s eyes went wide. She almost called out but Faustus pressed his lips to hers and lifted her body so that he could enter her.

He fucked her against the window while she stared at the apparition in the corner.

_She _was watching.

Faustus stopped his motions right before his release, carried Zelda to the bed and deposited her atop it. And then he laid between her legs in the customary position and he took her until he ceremonially came inside of her. And then he leaned down and whispered against her cheek, “I want you to remember this, Zelda. I want you to remember that I am your husband. I own you and you are to serve me.”

Zelda groaned. “You don’t own me.”

“You will do as I please.” He spoke as if he hadn’t heard her.

She pushed at him, he held her tightly against the bed. His smile widened the harder she fought him.

But she was too weak, far too weak. He’d worn her down.

“I bought you something, you see.” He was suddenly standing at the side of the bed. “A little wedding present from me to you.” He was holding something. A box.

Things were moving too quickly for Zelda to register.

_She _was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at Zelda’s naked body.

Faustus was opening the box.

_She _was stroking Zelda’s forehead, trying to get her to look at her.

Faustus was chanting something. It was indecipherable.

The box was open.

There was a little ballet figurine in the center of it.

Zelda watched as Faustus wound the box tight and then it clicked.

The ballerina started twirling, turning.

“Zelda, look at me.” _Her _voice swirled about.

The ballerina twirled.

Zelda was dizzy, felt suddenly very, very numb.

“That’s it.” Faustus smiled, sat on the edge of the bed, reached out to run his hand lovingly over Zelda’s cheek. “Very good, my darling, sweet Zelda. Now you shall be the perfect wife.”

Zelda felt herself smiling sleepily, drowsily.


	14. Chapter 14

She was aware but not.

She watched as Faustus plotted the future of the church. She had wanted to be a part of it, the planning, the laying of the future foundations, to taste the power and prestige she felt was finally in her reach.

And yet she could only put on make-up and the dresses he’d chosen for her. All pastels and yellows and nude-tones as if he liked the idea of her naked but decently covered. She did her hair, her nails, poured his tea, made his dinner, responded to his every wish, his every desire like a good little wife and internally she scratched and bit and fought and was in pain.

He hurt her on whims. He fucked her on whims.

He healed the bruises externally, but internally she still felt it all. Each new attack left a mark even if it didn’t show on the outside.

And when they had returned to the Academy and learned of what Sabrina had done she wanted to be concerned for her, she wanted to protect her niece as she would have in the past, but she was confined to the bedchamber or standing at Faustus’ side as he deliberated with the council or serving tea for any guests Faustus might have.

When Sabrina was finally called before Faustus and the coven she looked different.

Zelda could only smile at her but her heart had pounded away in her rib cage, a terrible ache welled deep down. But she had to stay standing straight, a smile stretched across her face as Faustus threatened Sabrina. Right there in front of her. The pain of witnessing him threatening her niece, her darling Sabrina, was nearly worse than if he’d physically harmed Zelda.

And Hilda. She felt Hilda’s eyes boring into her and she wanted to yell, to scream to her sister. “I’m in here! I’m in here!” She could only smile, confined to her place beside Faustus.

But she felt Hilda _seeing_her.

She knew that Hilda could always see her.

There was a relief when Hilda asked Faustus for a moment alone with her sister.

“Yes! Yes! See me! Save me!” Zelda wanted to cry but she could not.

They retired to the bedchamber and Zelda wanted to wrap Hilda up in her arms and hold her but there seemed to be a force keeping them apart. Zelda could only perform for her sister, twirl, pour tea, splash sugar cubes into the hot liquid. She was talking nonsense and Hilda was looking at her with those frightened, big eyes of hers. Hilda was thinking, was trying to figure it out. She could see the wheels turning in that clever little head of hers. She performed more, hoping that Hilda would know.

She didn’t want her to leave when she had to. She wanted her sister to assure her it would be okay, that this was all somehow worth it. But Hilda kept her distance – as if afraid of Zelda. Had left her when Faustus demanded.

And there was Mary. Or no. She was Lilith.

Always hovering, always lingering around.

Zelda could feel her coming and going. She saw Lilith witness what Faustus did to her behind closed doors. Lilith watched it all play out helplessly.

Zelda had seen tears in the demoness’ eyes one night as she watched Faustus shove Zelda into a wall. But Zelda felt nothing other than the sharp edge of a shelf going into her shoulder.

Why should Lilith cry for her?

Zelda thought that she’d sat with her while she bathed one evening - she remembered sensation rushing to her body - but her memories all seemed to muddle together.

She could not remember exact details as she mindlessly rubbed Faustus’ shoulders. A requirement each night after he’d finished his duties for the day. If she were in her right mind, she would ask him about the Academy, advise him, put their minds together to create something wonderful, but the spell would not allow for it. She could only compliment him, rub his shoulders. 

But then he made his mistake.

He sent her to fetch Ambrose’s familiar.

He should have known, he should have been cognizant that her family would break her free. Hilda had been aware of her situation though Zelda wasn’t sure if Faustus had kept her away or if she had given up on Zelda.

However, the instant the spell broke - and Zelda felt all the pain flood back into her body - she could feel her sister’s worried eyes on her.

Hilda had not given up on her.

Sabrina rushed into her arms and she winced in pain as she held her niece, fighting to hold herself together because she was the matriarch and she did not break down. She held Sabrina in her arms, could _feel _her lithe frame pressed against her and she relished the sensation. Delighted by being able to _feel_ at all.

And she met Hilda’s eyes over Sabrina’s head. She understood that Hilda was instinctively aware of her pain.

When Sabrina released her - and she almost didn’t want her to let go, so afraid for her she was - Zelda rummaged through the kitchen drawers for her spare pack of cigarettes and holder and lit up, the smoke filling her lungs pleasantly.

She felt as Hilda must after a harrowing. She could breathe again.

She poured herself two fingers of whiskey, needing the liquid courage. They sat at the table, Zelda smoking and drinking. Knowing that time was not on her side for Faustus would want her back soon.

He would find her tardiness suspicious and she could not yet show her bluff. She needed him to believe she was cursed so that she could spare Sabrina’s life.

She made a joke about what she did for her family – for hell’s sake, they had no _idea_what she was doing - and reached for the ruined familiar who would have freed Ambrose And Zelda hated herself for killing him. Why hadn’t they stopped her before she’d done it?

But Hilda stopped her before she could leave, pulled her into the study near the front door, knowing full-well that a car was waiting outside the door to take Zelda back to the Academy, back to Faustus.

And Zelda realized she _needed _time for this so she allowed herself to be taken into the room, the door closing behind them.

“Zelds.”

And Zelda looked at Hilda, saw the unshed tears welling in her sister's eyes. And it made her strong facade weaken because the thought of returning to Faustus made her knees weak. She felt tears pricking her own eyes.

“Zelda, has he...” she tried to reach for Zelda but the older woman flinched, moved away from her. “Oh, lamb.”

“Don’t.” Zelda whispered.

“Zelda, please. Let me...”

“No. I...I deserve this. I...I was hard-headed, I let the title get to me...I...”

“Stop.” Hilda’s hands were on her, healing warmth passing between them. “Stop it. I hate that you have to go back to him.”

Zelda collapsed into Hilda’s touch – Hilda healed deep and thoroughly. But there wouldn’t be enough time to heal it all. And even if there had been, it still wouldn’t all go away. Not so easily.

She let her sister hold her, kiss her neck gently, carefully. Her bones, her muscles released with Hilda’s touch.

But there was a tension, a tautness that rested deep in her stomach. She could not embrace Hilda in turn.

“I should go...I need to go...” Zelda whispered, their foreheads pressed together. Where had this discomfort come from? Her sister’s intimacy was too much.

Hilda eyed her strangely, tried to offer her a reassuring glance. “I’ll see you before the council with Ambrose tomorrow. We will fight this.”

Zelda was frigid. “Do you think Sabrina, Ambrose...they know that I was under a spell, that I would have protected...”

“Shh, love. Of course they know.” Hilda kissed her cheek.

Zelda wiped furiously at her eyes.

“No more tears.” Hilda passed her hand over Zelda’s face and she was instantly put back together. Hilda smiled up at her. “I don’t think that lipstick suits you at all.”

Zelda rolled her eyes, but was glad - knew Hilda knew she was - that Hilda could joke just now.

* * *

“You’ve done well this evening, Lady Blackwood.” Faustus greeted her, his hand stroking her arm from behind.

Her eyes slid closed but she forced the smile to remain intact on her face.

This man - who had once been a shy, kind boy in her divination class, a young man with whom she’d spent several Lupercalia celebrations in the arms of – was no longer recognizable to her. Had he always been so cruel and she had not seen? Had Edward known what Faustus was capable of?

Edward had been trying to protect her. She had not listened.

Her eyes came open and she found herself staring at Lilith before her.

She had not listened to her either.

Faustus pressed his lips to Zelda’s neck.

She looked into Lilith’s eyes.

Lilith knew that she was aware.

Faustus put his arms about her, turned Zelda to face him.

And as she turned, spun like a dancer, her smile was put back into place. Her eyes glazed over.

She was aware of Lilith more than ever as Faustus took her to bed to fulfil his needs.

Her eyes kept slipping to crystal blues, watching her watch her. There was so much pain in that gaze. Nearly the same amount of pain that Zelda felt radiating acutely, through her body.

* * *

When Faustus drifted off to sleep, Zelda slid silently from the bed.

Her skin burned from the intimacy of being so near to him while they slept. She was naked, exposed as he liked her to be, only tonight it felt unbearable for she could actually _feel_. She willed herself to not make a peep as she moved through the room, grasping for her robe to cover herself. She was sticky and warm between her legs, but she ignored the sensation as she made her way away from the room, down the candlelit hall, past Judas’ room, into Faustus’ study.

There was a bottle of absinthe – something specialty from the Czech Republic - hidden amongst his bottles. It would do the trick.

She glanced over her shoulder as she flicked off the cap and poured a generous serving into a glass.

She needed to be numb.

The wormwood liquid rushed down her throat, burned, warmed her body. It was a welcome reprieve. It made her skin tingle, her body lost sensation entirely.

She craved a cigarette, only Faustus kept cigars so she would have to deal with liquid courage.

She tossed back another sip, put everything back into place so that he might never know that she was in her right mind.

Swaying, she made her way back to the room, her eyes growing heavy. She returned to her rightful place in his bed, at his side. The alcohol seared her mind, made her lose touch with her surroundings, made her skin burn red-hot.

She hazily recollected Faustus on top of her, taking.

The next moment she was cradled in Lilith’s arms looking into wide, devilish, dancing blues.

* * *

Witnessing Ambrose on the guillotine about did her in. But she forged her smile, willed her available reserve of magic towards Sabrina who looked so calm, so serene amongst the bystanders. When had she become so powerful?

Conjuring the Dark Lord on a whim was certainly a skill to be lauded.

But Zelda knew that all could not go so perfectly to plan.

Every action had a consequence. Perhaps Sabrina didn’t see it yet, but Zelda knew.


	15. Chapter 15

There was a knife hovering at her throat.

A centimeter more and it would pierce her skin.

She should have known that it was only a matter of time before she should find herself in so precarious a situation.

She chastised herself for having not been a little sharper that morning. Perhaps if she hadn’t sat up nursing a bottle of whiskey and smoking her way through entirely too many cigarettes, she might have been better able to judge their circumstances, their actual abilities verses what they thought they could accomplish.

Her Achilles heel had been exposed, her bluff revealed. Her heart had hammered in her chest when she’d seen Leticia in Faustus’ arms.

Zelda thought Faustus might kill her, but was somewhat relieved to find herself relegated to the dungeon, in that cold, damp room where she’d already been on her knees for much less. Though her imminent death was certainly not far off.

The knife at her throat and the wretched Dark Lord before her, then, seemed apropos.

She could see Lilith standing uselessly beside her in the alcove of the woods. Her plan, which had seemed solid to Zelda’s alcohol raddled brain, had not been solid after all.

What the bloody heavens did this demoness wish to accomplish? At one moment she was in accordance with the Dark Lord and the next she was plotting to kill him. And nothing about her actions tracked. Nothing made sense about her.

Zelda realized, as Sabrina lifted the horn to her lips, that whether she had intended it or not, Lilith had led Sabrina right into the Dark Lord’s trap.

Sabrina would, inevitably, save her aunts if given the choice. They were all she had in the world. They were a unit, they did not operate without the others. They were Spellmans and Spellmans stayed together, fought for one another, saved one another no matter what. It was their code as a family.

So, it was no surprise that Sabrina did as she had to do. The knife dropped from Zelda’s throat to the ground, the Dark Lord disappeared. They stared at one another.

Lilith cursed.

Had the demoness truly not known that the Dark Lord was invincible? She appeared to have some sort of chip on her shoulder.

Sabrina dove for Hilda’s arms.

Zelda staggered backwards. Her hand went to her throat.

* * *

Lilith was ravishing in red.

Zelda could appreciate this in the frenzy and fray of the evening’s unceremonious, end-time whirl. The room was spinning. She wasn’t certain whether it was due to the alcohol or the off kilter-ed way in which everything felt now that all she had ever known was crashing down around her.

All her life she had been made to be pious and good, in accordance with the will of the Dark Lord. She had spent her centuries alive molding and shaping her life to reflect the greatness of the Church and its teachings. Had given of herself to the will and whim of all that she felt the Dark Lord demanded of her.

And this…seeing her niece used as live-bait, seeing the women she cared about placed in unfortunate positions, seeing the children of the Academy suffering at the hands of such careless, idiotic leaders…this was her reward? Or was it her penance?

Lilith was gazing at her across the room through the throng of glamored people. She could feel those crystal blue orbs on her. She was always watching her. Though they had not crossed paths. Though Lilith had been to the mortuary, they had not spoken to one another privately. 

Zelda spent most of her days drinking and smoking and pretending to hold everything together. There was so much happening, Sabrina coming to them with some new, impossible situation – situations she had never faced before - practically daily. It made her head spin just thinking about it all. 

So that Zelda drank to feel some sort of internal calm. Imbibing in her vices until she carried her weary limbs up the stairs and fell into bed with Hilda. Passed out wrapped around her. Needing her. But not taking more than warmth and comfort.

Anything more was out of the question. And Hilda spoiled Zelda as she had when they were children. Spoiled her absolutely rotten with hangover cures and breakfast in bed. And Zelda resented her, hated that concerned little line in the younger woman’s forehead.

Hilda was ravishing that evening. Lilith looked more beautiful than Zelda had ever seen her.

And yet Zelda kept her distance. For the thought of either's touch, of what they had shared _before _felt tainted. She went cold thinking about Lilith’s arms, Hilda’s lips, the way they’d touched her...

She watched, trying to hold herself more rigidly than she felt, as the events unfolded before her.

Young Nicholas gave of himself to bind the Dark Lord. Lilith picked his weighted body up into her arms as if he weighed no more than a feather. She carried him, hidden beneath the thin veil of moon-less night, to the mouth of hell.

And everyone followed in pitch-black silence.

It was warm, too warm, at the entrance.

Zelda felt herself breaking internally as she realized what it was Lilith was doing. She was leaving. She was returning to Hell to take care of the Dark Lord.

Their eyes met briefly, an inconsequential second that felt like a lifetime. For those flaming blue eyes bore into Zelda, tried to reassure her.

_Lilith was leaving for now, but she would return. She would come back, she did not know when, but she would be back._

Zelda clinched her fists at her side and fought off the urge to stop her from going. She was putting her life on the line for her, for all of them. Once the Dark Lord emerged from Nicholas – and Zelda was certain he would emerge again – all hell would, quite literally, break loose. It would only be a matter of time and, trapped in Hell, Lilith might not be strong enough to weather that storm.

But her eyes…Satan, those eyes.

And then she was gone, newly crowned and glorious, the doors sealing behind her and Zelda felt the tears welling in her eyes.

Her fingernails dug deeply into the palms of her hands. She stumbled slightly back on her heels, felt Hilda’s hand steady her.

But she turned before her sister could comfort her.

She couldn’t breathe in the mines. The air was too dense, too intense. Her hand found the suddenly cold stone of the tunnel wall. There was a cheer of celebration. The threat of total destruction had been quelled for the time being.

No one – except Hilda - seemed to notice when Zelda felt her way back to the fresh night air, sat atop a rock and lit up a cigarette. Her hand shook. She felt warm tears on her cheeks.

* * *

The cacophony of insects chirping away in the middle of the night provided a false sense of serenity. As if they did not know of what had come to pass.

The mortuary was full of slowly recovering coven members.

Zelda had deliriously declared that perhaps they were to be the Church of Lilith now – the words sounding foreign and daunting on her lips. To praise Lilith in such a way – when she did not know if she could trust her or not. To have never been led by a woman before – to have always submitted to the will of a man…it seemed unspeakable.

And yet she had uttered the phrase amidst a heap of ailing bodies and it had felt right. As if that was what Lilith had intended all along. She had placed Zelda into the High Priestess position, played her like a pawn, just as she had with Sabrina. And now they would create a church to honor and praise her.

Had this been her goal the whole while?

Zelda lifted the glass tumbler to her lips and drank back another sip of whiskey.

“You’re going to drink us out of house and home pretty soon.” Hilda – wiping her hands on an apron – startled the nighttime quiet.

Zelda brought the cigarette to her lips and inhaled, not deigning this remark with a response. She felt the impulse to smash the whiskey bottle over Hilda’s head but she hadn’t the strength to lift her arms.

“You’ve been drinking an awful lot, Zelds.” Hilda’s voice was low. She had a bit of flour on her cheek from cooking for their house-load of people. She’d done the dishes for the evening and now her duties were over – only she had her loose-at-the-seams sister to apparently care for now.

Zelda stared into the half-empty tumbler. She did not deign this remark with a response, either.

“It’s j-just, you know, things haven’t been going so well – always some new crisis every day - and I fear that you…what with Sabrina and the coven…I don’t want them to see you…hurting yourself…”

“I’m _not_ hurting myself.” Zelda snapped.

“No, yes…of course not. But ever since…”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Zelda smashed the tumbler triumphantly, pointedly into the wooden deck.

Hilda jumped, glanced around as if someone might have heard.

But who cared if they heard? Zelda could easily lie, say it had slipped if anyone asked. And wasn’t it preferable to killing Hilda? For killing her would mean Zelda would have to take on breakfast duty and that was out of the question. It was lucky for Hilda, really, that she needed her so much just then. 

She watched the perfectly good liquor ooze out of the glass and immediately regretted her impetuous decision to waste it. “I am still taking care of this house.” Her tongue felt heavy as she spoke. When she tried to look at Hilda she felt her vision swimming. “I still wake up every morning and try to piece together what is left of this witching world of which we used to understand. I, as the High Priestess, understand my duties, Hildegard. I have not slacked on my end, so what difference does it make if I enjoy a little nip of alcohol here and there?”

“Y-yes, but sister, Zelda, it’s only that…”

Zelda stood abruptly, caught herself on the railing. “If you don’t want me drinking around Sabrina and all these people of the coven – as if they haven’t all had a little something every now and again – then I will take myself elsewhere.”

“Zelda, I don’t think that’s a good…” Hilda tried to reach for her.

“No, no!” Zelda shrugged her off, held up her hand as steadily as she could manage. She had to show her sister that she was not completely off-kilter.

“Zelda, come to bed, love.”

“No.” Zelda stomped her foot. “No.”

* * *

The bar was smoky and uncomfortable.

It was too warm. Her collar was too high.

She loosened the buttons on her jacket, lifting the plastic sword from her martini to bite off an olive as she did so. The gin was doing wonders for her. 

She reached for her cigarettes and placed one – with tremulous hands – into the holder.

“Allow me.” Some gentleman offered and she let him light her cigarette. “May I buy you a drink?”

“No. No thank you.” She would not be accepting drinks from blurry strangers that evening. She picked up her drink and moved down the bar a ways, unsteady on her feet as she did so.

She had come to this dingy, disgusting bar to be away from Hilda and her incessant harping. She did not want another companion trying to charm her. This was a solitary act – this drinking at the bar.

“I’m s-sorry.” A familiar, albeit unfamiliar, voice at her side stammered out. “Would you happen to have a light?”

Zelda’s brow furrowed.

She turned to meet memorable crystal-clear blue eyes – albeit less focused and hidden behind dark frames.

She would recognize those eyes anywhere.

The martini glass in her hand tumbled inadvertently towards the floor, crashing into a thousand little pieces.


	16. Chapter 16

A ray of light filtered in through the window, falling across her face, rousing her from sleep.

The room was unfamiliar.

She was dastardly hungry.

She checked to make sure that her undergarments were still in place. They were. Nothing had happened. Had it?

**Before....**

She fell into blue eyes. The shock of having this woman so near to her again made her falter.

But it wasn’t the same woman at all, was it?

No, this Mary Wardwell had her hair piled atop her head – falling out in places for she was quite tipsy – and those glasses were obstructing Zelda’s view of her eyes. But her skin, her cheek, the curve of her neck was all familiar. And yet _they _were not familiar with one another. This Mary Wardwell hardly knew her at all.

And how, exactly, had she come back?

Had Lilith resurrected her after having killed her? Was that even possible?

Mary was so very real before Zelda. She nearly reached out to touch her cheek, just to check, but stopped herself. This Mary may not be so open to her touch.

So perhaps it was possible for Lilith to have brought the _real _Mary Wardwell back. But why would Lilith have done such a thing? She had promised them all something…something that would be revealed later. Was this her present? Returning Mary to them, to her…But why?

And Mary looked haunted.

Those shy, sky-blue eyes widened as she realized just who Zelda was.

“Ms. Spellman.”

“Ms. Wardwell.” Zelda stuttered out the formality. The name sounding foreign on her tongue. “I didn’t take you for someone who frequented such a place.” Zelda crushed the broken martini glass beneath her heels, as if it were of no consequence that she’d dropped it in the first place.

“Nor you.” Mary eyed her bashfully, as if she were a frightened little mouse, having been caught out of her hole and cornered by a cat.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker, either.” Zelda eyed the cigarette dangling precariously from Mary’s fingers. She motioned for Mary to place it between her lips and leaned forward with her own cigarette poised between her own lip so that the two flames could meet together. Zelda’s hand lightly cupping Mary’s cheek as the flame passed from one to the other. Mary inhaled and coughed, running her tongue distastefully about her mouth.

“I’m not.” She coughed out. “It’s only…” she dragged a finger over her tongue, removing ash. “I have this taste in my mouth that won’t go away. No matter what I do…so I’ve given up trying. I…I-I thought a smoke wouldn’t hurt…a few drinks.” She shrugged, defeated.

Yes, and Zelda could understand this. Her body had been overtaken by Lilith. Satan only knew what the demoness had done to her.

Zelda was light-headed, didn’t have the strength to face this head-on. She needed another drink, perhaps something stronger.

Mary smelled like Lilith smelled like Mary smelled like Lilith.

Her eyes closed and opened again. She watched as Mary fumbled with the cigarette, trying to inhale, but struggling. This was no more the confident woman who had inhabited her. This was not the woman she’d shared a bed with, had fucked, had touched, had curled up with beneath the moon…

And seeing Mary here before her so undone and rather helpless made Zelda long for what it was she had let slip through her fingers. This thing that was no more…would not be for some time. A useless want welled up inside of her. Lilith had left them.

Lilith had left her.

She excused herself from the bar – Mary absorbed in her cigarette for the time being – and slipped away to the safety of the bathroom.

With the flick of her finger the door to the restroom locked. She fell against the edge of the sink, placing her leopard print bag atop the counter. She extracted her compact mirror, placed it on the countertop. Her fingers found the clasp to the large onyx ring on her finger and with one flick a compartment opened. The white powder fell into a somewhat perfect line atop the mirrored surface. She had been introduced to this interesting substance decades ago – some dashing warlock had taken her on quite a ride – and now she _needed_ this. She had kept this little habit hidden away from her sister neatly.

She extracted a hundred-dollar bill from her wallet and rolled it up tightly, flicking her hair over her shoulder so that she could bend down and inhale. One long inhale and the substance burned inside her nose. Someone was banging on the bathroom door. She wiped at her nose, ran a finger over the powdery surface of the mirror and rubbed it against her gums.

She placed everything away into her bag again, glanced at herself in the mirror – saw her sagging eyes, the wrinkles – willed the drug to settle in faster. So that she could feel.

Elation overtook her. Her body warmed.

She flicked open the lock on the bathroom door and emerged, brushing past the blurry, annoying mortal who had disturbed her, returning to Mary who had apparently given up on her cigarette and was looking down into another cocktail.

Zelda ordered another martini, slipping into the seat beside the teacher. “Why haven’t you been able to eat?” She asked, feeling sharp again.

Mary shrugged. “This is too sweet.” She twirled the hot-pink plastic sword around in her glass.

“That’s why when you drink to get drunk you don’t want to have a bunch of Mai Tais.” Zelda lifted her martini to her lips. Mary was not accustomed to drinking in bars – this much she knew. She could see, very clearly, that Mary was lost, possibly in pain, and upset.

“It’s so strange.” Mary twirled the drink in her hands, as if having lost interest in anything other than the color of it. “I’ve lost so much time.”

Zelda’s brow creased.

“I looked at the calendar and I realized that I don’t remember a thing since October. That’s strange, right?” Mary was looking right at her then. “I can’t sleep at night. I can’t eat. I thought that…that drinking might help but I just have a headache.” She rubbed at her forehead.

Zelda finished off her martini, sucked the olives from her own tacky sword. “Maybe a bar isn’t the right place for you.” She felt annoyingly responsible for this mess that Lilith had left behind.

Mary laughed coldly. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Let me take you home.” Zelda tossed a bill on the bar and reached for Mary. Neither was in any state to be driving, but the cocaine had made her feel sharp enough to drive and Mary was just far enough gone that she allowed it. She did not question when Zelda knew, without directions, how to the way to her little cottage on the outskirts of the city.

Zelda helped the tipsy Ms. Wardwell into her home.

“I’m so sorry.” Mary sighed as she slumped into a chair near the cold fireplace. The room was different from when Zelda had been there last. It felt emptier. Something was lacking.

“No need to apologize.” Zelda rung her hands, feeling uncertain and concerned for Mary. Mary who curled up on the chair, leaned her head against its straight back.

“I feel so terrible.” Mary whispered. “Like something’s crawling inside of me and I can’t…I can’t…” Her fingers scratched over her arms.

To have one’s body taken over, to be possessed. This, this made Zelda’s own skin crawl.

She wanted to help her forget. She wanted to make it all go away.

They were in this together, they both wanted to escape – Zelda sensed this.

“I have something that I think might help.” Zelda opened her purse, extracted the bag she’d stolen from Ambrose.

Mary’s eyes watched her blurrily. “Is that…”

“Yes.” Zelda nodded, her cocaine high about to crash and this would soften the blow. There were better ways to cope, but Zelda didn’t want to think about them just then. She hardly wanted to think at all because thinking often led to things she didn’t want to think about.

Besides, it would restore Mary’s appetite, presumably. If anything, she was doing the woman a favor.

She lit the joint and inhaled it sharply, carefully, before passing it to Mary. Mary, who held it uncomfortably.

“I’ve never.”

“Inhale deeply.” Zelda coaxed her, watched as she brought the paper to her lips and inhaled. And unlike her cigarette attempt, she managed to keep the smoke inside.

Mary exhaled, laughing. “This is naughty, isn’t it? Smoking with a pupil’s aunt.”

Zelda took back the joint and inhaled lavishly. “Depends.” She croaked out. “Seems like you might need it just now.”

And Zelda supervised Mary as she grew higher by the minute and she could sense – if only for a few moments – that Mary forgot. And she, herself, forgot.

They sat side-by-side on the floor, staring at the empty fireplace, laughing about something. Something that was funny. The crooked cross above the fireplace. The Mai Tais, the concept of time, Baxter High, witches in Greendale. They laughed until Mary groaned.

“I’m so hungry.”

And Zelda stumbled her way to Mary’s kitchen – this terrible mixture of alcohol and drugs foreign to her system. Hilda would be livid, concerned about her Satan forsaken blood pleasure.

Was there a Satan still?

She examined the nearly barren refrigerator and cabinets. It took a bit of magic, a bit of concentration, but in a matter of minutes she’d whipped up a decadent meal of roasted sweet potatoes and broccoli florets with a nice filleted salmon. She had forgotten how culinarily talented she was when she was high as a kite.

“How did you do that?” Mary was far gone, but tucked into the food readily, happily. And she held a bit of broccoli in the fork, examining it as if she’d never seen such a thing before. “The taste.” She said. “The taste is gone.” And she smiled, big and toothy, at Zelda.

Zelda smiled and bit into her own food before picking up her glass of whiskey. The room was spinning. She felt her eyes darting from corner to corner, lids heavy. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing the world to slow down. To stop. Her hands came to rest on either side of her plate.

“Are you alright?” Mary’s shy voice questioned.

Zelda just nodded, lifted her glass again.

The clock was ticking. It was late. Zelda could sense this.

Mary stood and nearly fell over, Zelda reached out to grab her. “I think you should go to bed…”

Mary nodded. “I think you shouldn’t drive anywhere…”

Zelda knew she was right; her eyes were so heavy. Mary’s bed was like a welcomed haven and she curled herself atop the cool mattress, burying her face in the pillow that smelled like Lilith.

Like Mary. Like Lilith.

And her arms curled around the pillow, hugging it close and she felt what seemed like tears spilling out from her eyes, but that was so preposterous.

Darkness enveloped her.

* * *

The light was blinding. Zelda groaned, put a hand to her forehead.

What had she done to herself?

Her eyes came open, ever so slightly, trying to grasp just where she was and just what had happened. And she saw the long pale spans of Mary Wardwell’s back as she struggled into a jumper.

And as if sensing she was being watched, Mary turned in that moment. Her blue eyes widened in embarrassment. “You’re awake.”

Zelda covered her face, eyes rolling upwards. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen it all before. She’d covered the spans of that skin with her lips.

But Mary Wardwell didn’t know it.

Zelda’s mouth was all cotton balls, her throat rough, and her nose congested. It was as if a truck had hit her square in the face. She felt impossibly ill. “Bathroom…where’s the bathroom?”

“In there.” Mary motioned, still struggling with the zipper.

Zelda clumsily rolled from the bed, having to steady herself with the wall – the room was still spinning. And then she caught Mary’s shoulder, turned her so that she could pull the zipper up to the top of Mary’s dress and then she made a beeline for the bathroom – the door slamming shut behind her.

She retched up all she had done the night before. Her body exhausted and hurt.

She finally sat back, rubbing her forehead, waiting for the nausea to pass.

She snorted a line of coke to pick herself back up. She wiped at her nose, let water run over her hands as she stared at her lifeless reflection in the mirror. She felt like a shell of herself, outside of herself, gone, missing from who she was, had been, could no longer be.

She enchanted Mary’s coffee to help with the hangover and then drove her back to the bar to retrieve her car.

She watched as the dark-haired woman shyly, thankfully waved to her. She waved back and lit a cigarette.

She returned to the mortuary where Hilda, unquestioningly, put her back together.


	17. Chapter 17

She had it under control.

There were the pills that kept her eyes open, a hit in the bathroom when she felt as if she were fading, the bit of pot she managed to procure of her own accord to ground her, drinks in the evening to help ease her mind into sleep.

She worked diligently enough. She took to her new-found role – in Faustus’ absence – well. Relegating, delegating, deciding, rebuilding with ease, as if she were made for the position.

And she knew, instinctively that she had been. That this was her time. And as long as she kept the how and why of it suppressed, she could manage. She could control the situation.

And though Hilda looked a bit skeptically at her each time she came from the restroom, she knew that she was doing just fine.

Fine enough to purchase a bottle of good whiskey after a day hunched over a desk writing until her hand was raw and to drive to the outskirts of town, to a little winding road that led to a little cottage that sat back, hidden away from the world.

And Mary answered the door still done-up in her very perfect Mary Wardwell school-teacher, tight-laced outfit from her day of teaching, though a cigarette dangled a bit more expertly from her fingers and her eyes looked just a bit glassy so that Zelda knew she had arrived at the perfect time.

She held up the bottle and Mary held the door open for her to enter, neither surprised to find themselves here again.

They sat drinking and smoking by the fireplace in relative silence, as if the other’s absent presence were enough.

Zelda examined the schoolteacher out of the corner of her eyes. How very different she was from Lilith. Even as she sat reclined in the chair, her body loose and lax.

Lilith.

Zelda brought the joint she had rolled to her lips and inhaled.

Lilith had not returned to her. There had been no sign from her, no definitive answer as to what had occurred with Lucifer, with Sabrina’s little handsome boyfriend who had trapped him, put his life in peril for her darling niece. Nor had there been word from Faustus whom had fled with her darling Letitia.

Her arms ached at the mere thought of the baby. She inhaled deeper.

Mary stirred in her chair, wiped at her cheek, pulling Zelda’s attention back to her. She was crying. She tried to laugh, but ended up crying more.

“What is it?” Zelda asked.

“Th-they told me today…” She stopped to take a deep breath. “They told me today that Adam, my fiancé, was killed. In Tibet.”

Zelda’s blood ran cold. Adam. Lilith had been with Adam. Had Lilith killed Adam? What had happened? Zelda wished she could remember it all more clearly. No, Lilith had told her something – that night in the bathtub – Lilith had come to her.

_“Besides, Adam is dead. Satan killed him.”_

Mary wiped at her cheeks. “But I don’t…I don’t understand.” She cried messily, snot coming from her nose. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. “I don’t understand where this came from.” Mary lifted a frightening looking African doll from near her chair. It felt enchanted somehow, as if it possessed some ancient magic. “It’s just like something he would bring to me…but I have no recollection of how it got here. He was here…wasn’t he? He can’t be…he wouldn’t go to Tibet without telling me.”

Zelda regarded the present, looked at Mary and her pain. Lilith had really gone and fucked her over, hadn’t she?

“I lost…I lost so much time.” Mary sniffed, cradled the African doll. Lighted a fresh cigarette in trembling hands.

* * *

There was a drop of blood that slowly glided down her philtrum. A red droplet landed on the parchment paper she was bent over. “Shit.” She dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief, willing it to stop.

She tilted her head back, closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, no, no.” She had it all under control. It wasn’t supposed to show.

Her heart pounded irregularly, her hands were warm, clammy. She was fading, but this little hiccup would make snorting her pain away a bit more difficult.

“Zelds.”

Oh, blasted heavens. _Not now, not now. _

“What’s the matter – oh, Zelda. You’re bleeding.”

“Just a little nose bleed, nothing to be alarmed about.” Zelda was proud of herself for keeping her voice so even, so certain.

Hilda was at her side, depositing the tray of tea she had brought for her on the edge of the desk, and then taking the handkerchief from Zelda. “Zelda, you should pace yourself, you have your blood pressure to think of. You know what happens when you overtax yourself.”

Ah, yes. Her high blood pressure. What a convenient excuse. “I’ve just been…worried about the Coven.”

“Perhaps you need some rest, love.” Hilda stroked her hair. She felt her stomach sink at her care.

She was blatantly lying to her sister and even if she had no intention of cleaning up her act at the moment, she still felt terrible about that. She hazily nodded in agreement at this statement.

“You’ve been staying out awfully late recently.” Hilda shyly ventured to say.

Zelda could only allow this concern for so long. “You’re not my keeper.” She hissed. But immediately regretted her words. She was lashing out, she was falling apart, she was scared, she didn’t know what to do, but she didn’t want to feel, she didn’t want to change.

Things were going well enough. She was handling things just fine. Hilda couldn’t understand, would not be able to fathom what it was she was going through and she wanted to spare her sister the pain, the heavy burden of her emptiness, her loss of self.

“Perhaps not.” Hilda retorted shortly. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned.” The words were whispered.

Zelda flinched irritably. “I don’t need your concern.” She took the handkerchief from Hilda and stood – but felt a bit light headed so that she had to steady herself against the desk.

“Zelda, you should see a doctor.” Hilda’s voice waivered.

“I’m just fine.” Zelda snapped.

* * *

As if she knew she would be there, Mary edged her way onto the barstool beside Zelda.

Zelda who had rested her head atop the sticky bar surface. The room felt strange, the noise of the other patrons sounded far away, like she had cotton in her ears. Her mouth was dry, the pills she’d taken earlier probably attributing to this.

Mary ordered a drink. “Are you alright?” She asked and Zelda could mostly just make out the way her lips moved. Her brilliant blue eyes were shielded behind a pair of dark sunglasses despite the fact it was past sunset.

Zelda nodded and sat up. “What are you doing here?” She lit a cigarette. Her heart pounding. She was wrecking herself.

Mary shrugged. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

Zelda laughed at that. Nor did she. But she felt more alone amidst a crowd of people than if she were by herself. Though Mary felt safe enough. She understood what the others could not.

“You look pale.” Mary observed, her faculties still in place. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Zelda nodded slowly but then felt a dizzy spell overcome her so that she nearly toppled out of her chair.

“Zelda.” Mary’s arms were about her. More contact than they’d had – nearly too much contact. Zelda felt panicky as she came to again. “Zelda, perhaps I should take you home.”

“No.” Zelda grasped at Mary’s arm, pulling her away. “No, I can’t – can’t go home.”

“I don’t think…”

“Don’t.” Zelda steadied herself. “Please.”

Mary sighed, pulled some bills from her wallet and stood up. “Come on.”

“No.” Zelda knew she looked foolish but the thought of being taken back to the mortuary in this state was unacceptable. Sabrina could be there. Hilda’s prying, worried eyes would be there. No.

“We’ll go to my place.” Mary whispered, helping Zelda up, putting an arm about her so that she could lean up against her.

Zelda did not protest at this.

Mary lit the fire, made a pot of tea and adorned it with almond cookies.

She poured some whiskey into her tea, needing as Zelda needed. Only she was not as far gone over the edge as Zelda. Zelda watched her hand shake as she did so. They were both coming apart at the seams.

“What happened?” Mary ventured to ask, breaking their unspoken rule of not asking. Don’t ask, don’t tell.

Zelda shook her head.

“It’s only…I feel we’ve both lost something.”

That was true enough.

Mary lit her own cigarette. “You don’t have to tell me.” She ran her hands over her pencil skirt.

Zelda rubbed her forehead. She wouldn’t have said a word anyway because she was certain that if she spoke of it, she would rip right open. And she wasn’t sure what would happen once it all came out, if she would be able to put herself back together then.

“I only wish that…I just wish I could understand what happened.” Mary sighed.

And Zelda felt that if she were to tell her all that had occurred it would only hurt her further. So, she brought her own cigarette to her lips and inhaled. Too many people had already been hurt. She didn’t want to hurt anyone else. She didn’t want to hurt Mary more.

Silence.

Mary was lost in thought again.

The phone was ringing somewhere off in the distance. Neither registered the sound at first and then finally Mary snapped to, realization settling in. She got up and tottered her way to the screaming device. She lifted the phone from the receiver.

Zelda brought the glass to her lips, sipped, somehow knew just who it would be.

“It’s your sister.” Mary turned to her.

It took Zelda a moment to stand from her chair. Somehow, she managed to make it to the phone, lifting the receiver to her ear. “Hilda. How did you know where I…”

“There’s been an accident at the mine. Sabrina…Sabrina was there.”

Zelda’s mind reeled at this. Sabrina had been in an accident.

“I’m coming to get you.” Hilda’s voice pierced her eardrums. “I hope you’ve sobered up.”

A line of coke and no nosebleed later and Zelda was right as rain when Hilda appeared at Mary’s door.


	18. Chapter 18

She was trying to understand what had happened.

The flashing lights of the ambulance blurred her vision. Movement all around did not help with her clarity either. People running to the mouth of the mine, people running away, people covered in ash. 

There was Sabrina – wrapped in a medic blanket. Alive. Her face a bit dirtied, but still in one piece.

“What the heavens happened?” Zelda demanded as Hilda wrapped the girl up in her arms.

And Zelda squinted through wavering vision to find that Sabrina’s friends were all in attendance. There was Roz and Theo and Harvey and…oh. There was Nicholas Scratch.

Nicholas looked more battered and bruised than the rest. He was shirtless and shaking and trying to look strong but it was obvious he had been through hell – quite literally - as he laid atop the stretcher inside the ambulance. And if he were with them now…then that meant that Lucifer had escaped. At least Zelda – with addled brain – could work this much out.

“What were you doing down there?” Zelda felt her spine stiffen.

“We were trying to save Nick.” Sabrina had dried tears and blood on her face.

“Sabrina, don’t you know how very dangerous that was? To go down there like that. You were putting yourself – your friends – in danger!”

“Auntie,” Sabrina’s voice was doing her head in. “I have my powers back. I wouldn’t have let anything happen to them.”

“It was impulsive and unwise.” Zelda snapped, her hand shaking. “You may think you’re all powerful and stronger than everyone else because you reincarnated, but I can assure you that Lucifer is not one to cross.”

“Zelds,” Hilda tried to calm her with a hand to arm but she shrugged her away.

“What happened?” Zelda demanded.

“We went down through the portal to try and call out Lucifer from Nick’s body. We were able to do that, but I wasn’t able to kill Lucifer…I…I had to leave him. With Lilith. We had to block his path. The only way was to demolish and curse the portal. The whole mine came in when we escaped.”

The portal to hell had been removed. Just striped away, like that.

And Sabrina had said that Lilith was there. Zelda had just heard that correctly? Lilith was now trapped in hell with a raving, angry Lucifer who could have her head by now.

“How could you be so stupid?” Zelda had the impulse to strike her niece, but she refrained from doing so, knew that her rapidly beating heart was signifying that she was out of control. She turned from the group of coal covered kids, needing to process, needing to understand.

Lilith was trapped in hell.

“Aunt Zelda, we did what we had to do and we got Nick back and that is all that matters.” Sabrina called after her retreating form.

Zelda stopped mid-step and turned on her niece. “That is _not_ all that matters, you selfish child.”

“Zelda.” Hilda snapped at her.

Zelda moved back to the car and got inside, slamming the door satisfactorily behind her, lighting up a cigarette in the interior, breathing in the smoke as if it were her lifeline.

* * *

“You were rather harsh, don’t you think?” Hilda slammed the tea kettle down on the stove and Zelda flinched, the sound making her growing migraine only worsen.

She _had_ been harsh.

Zelda lit a fresh cigarette and poured another splash of whiskey into her tumbler. She felt Hilda’s eyes on her, resented them. Resented the way Sabrina had seethed at her from the backseat of the car while they’d driven back to the mortuary in near silence. The tension unsettlingly high.

Nicholas was placed in Edward’s old room to heal. Sabrina was looking after him. And wasn’t it just the perfect little fairytale for the pair?

Zelda could see the cigarette holder shaking in her unsteady hand.

“Have a cup of tea instead, Zelds.” Hilda’s voice softened. And she resented that little sad, pathetic bit of worry that was laced in her sister’s voice. That little hint of uncertainty as to what it was Zelda might do to herself in the bathroom.

Zelda did not even deign Hilda’s remark with a response though, instead she lifted the tumbler to her lips and inhaled the amber liquid as if it were water – as if she needed it to survive. She would need something else before long. She could feel herself fading, her eyes slipping closed for a moment, her hand falling from the edge of the table. She startled, woke herself up.

“Come on.” Hilda was coming towards her. “Here’s a nice cup of tea.” Hilda had already settled the cup beside her, had removed the whiskey bottle. Damn her.

“I don’t want your tea.” Because she could never trust what was in Hilda’s tea and she didn’t feel like being _cured_ at the moment. With the flick of her wrist the steaming cup was overturned, splashing against Hilda’s front, the cup falling to the ground to shatter into pieces.

“Zelda!” Hilda yelped, shook her hand in pain, patted at her soiled front.

And Zelda did feel bad, only she felt drowsy more than she felt badly about burning her sister, so that she staggered upwards. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“No.” She felt Hilda’s hand clasp about her arm.

She turned, eyes wide as she looked at her sister. “What do you mean, _no_? I have every right, Hildegard, to use the restroom if I so feel the need.”

“Zelda, please.” And Zelda could hardly meet her sister’s eyes.

“Oh, stop it.” Zelda shook her hand away. Turned. Found Hilda before her.

“Zelda, I need you to be in the right state of mind now. I need you to be okay.” Hilda whispered, placing her hands on Zelda’s arms.

“I swear to Satan, Hilda, if you don’t let me go to the wash room…” Zelda sneered.

“You’ll what?” Hilda challenged, using that annoyingly condescending tone she had used when Sabrina was misbehaving as a child. But Zelda was not a child. “You haven’t the strength to do anything about it, Zelda. You’re wasting your powers on that _stuff_.”

“Get out of my way!” Zelda growled but found that Hilda had put her arms about her, wrestling her. There was grabbing and fighting and pulling and biting and Hilda finally pinned Zelda to the kitchen floor triumphantly – for she usually never won. Zelda never allowed it.

But this time the playing field was uneven, was twisting and turning about Zelda so that it felt as if the ground were wobbly beneath her back.

Hilda’s hands had her arms trapped against the floor. She couldn’t move, was having trouble breathing.

“It’s off to bed with you.” Hilda was looking into her eyes – deep into her eyes. Deep enough that Zelda could feel her examining her. Knew that her secrets were not secrets to Hilda.

“Are you going to come to the bathroom with me, then?” Zelda conceded, rolling her eyes.

And Hilda did. And Hilda brushed her hair for her, washed her clean, changed her into a nightgown – changed herself – and then was on top of her. Holding her tightly. Fiercely. The warmth of her body was overwhelming, the healing energy that emitted forth from her being felt painfully too nice. Zelda wanted to cry, but would not give her sister the satisfaction of knowing how far down the rabbit’s hole she truly was.

“What is it, Zelda?” Hilda whispered against her cheek.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Zelda snapped, but felt annoyingly consoled in that moment. She had not had physical touch like this since Faustus. She had not wanted it. She still did not long for it, but there was an obvious familiarity in her sister’s arms, the way she held her, the way she knew her, the way their bodies fit together as they had for decades and decades. There was Hilda’s love for her. There was a respect that they had for one another. There was a connection, a bond.

“She won’t be gone for forever.” Hilda stroked her neck, let her fingers tangle in her brushed-out curls and she knew that Zelda loved having her hair played with. Hilda was playing to this weakness. Hilda knew. As Hilda knew many things.

But would she be right about this? Zelda wasn’t certain she could bear it if _she_ were to be gone for forever…

Hilda’s body was warm and soft – unlike Faustus’ muscular body. There was a safety, a protection in Hilda’s arms. Faustus had never held her like this. There had been sex and then there had been separation.

No, there had been one night. One night that Faustus had cradled her in his arms. The night he’d smashed her face the first time. He’d opened his arms to her and had held her by the glow of the fire light. And her stomach had knotted in confusion.

There was no confusion in Hilda’s arms. There was only self-loathing. Because she knew she was slipping but she felt powerless.

Hilda – really everyone – viewed her as the strong one, the put-together one. And she felt as if she could no longer be that person. She was assuming the role of High Priestess and yet she was letting everyone down. Perhaps it was too much for her, had always been too much for her.

It wasn’t meant for her, should not have been for her…did not rightfully belong to her. She should have earned it, she should have been good enough…

“Shh, love.” Hilda could hear her thoughts. Zelda knew they were loud, angry. “You know you’re more capable than you give yourself credit for. Even when you feel weak.”

“Shut up.” Zelda hissed, fought back the tears in her eyes. “Shut up.”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

“Shh.” Zelda closed her eyes tightly.

Hilda was a deep sleeper. Of this she knew.

If she could only will herself to stay awake…

* * *

Hilda’s deep breathing and loosened arms were enough to know that she could slide from the bed undetected.

There was a slight catch in Hilda’s light snore as soon as she put her feet on the ground – but when her sister’s breathing returned back to normal she knew she was in the clear.

She padded to the bathroom lightly, quietly.

It would keep her awake, but she ached for it. More than the security of Hilda’s arms.

It was easy enough to find the bit she had hidden away behind the vanity. Hilda knew many things, but sometimes if Zelda kept things in an easily discovered place it worked out better. Sometimes Hilda missed things right in front of her.

She created a line of powder on her compact mirror, her hand annoyingly shaky. She had bent over, on her knees on the cold tile floor. It was so unladylike, so very terribly undignified. But in that moment, she didn’t care.

Her hair fell over her shoulder, hid her eyes from the rest of the room, masking just what it was she was doing to herself.

Until she felt a presence lingering beside her. And then she knew that she was not hidden at all. She had been found out. She was being watched.

“What are you doing?” The voice was clear, distinguishable from its counterpart, and made her spine tingle.


	19. Chapter 19

Zelda wiped at her nose, sat back to rest her cheek against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. Was she conjuring dream apparitions now? Was she so deluded that she had willed a false Lilith to her?

She felt lithe hands on her cheeks, Lilith’s warm, earthy scent, the heat of her burning presence at her side. “Get away from me.” Zelda lifted her arms to protest but Lilith easily fought her off. “Don’t…don’t.” Zelda whispered, Lilith fighting her at every turn. “You’re not…you’re not really here.”

“Oh, Zelda.” Lilith clasped her cheeks, lifted her head to face her, made her look into her icy blue eyes. Those eyes that burned with hidden, inner depths that hypnotized Zelda, brought her back to some kind of current reality. Lilith slapped her cheek. It stung deliciously.

The woman was really there.

“What the heavens are you doing?” Zelda drawled, placing a hand against her cheek, against Lilith’s hand.

“I told you not to marry him.”

“You told me to marry him.” Zelda corrected.

“I was wrong. Zelda, I was wrong.” Lilith shook her.

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Zelda tried to free herself again. Lilith was looking at her with those concerned eyes and she resented her _concern_. “What happened…what has happened?”

“Sabrina rescued Nicholas. I put off Lucifer. He’s weakened now. Not dead, but with severely diminished powers. I’m much stronger than I ever realized, Zelda. You, Sabrina have shown me this. It’s time we take control of our future.”

Zelda groaned, let her head roll away from Lilith. It seemed much too complicated, much too difficult at the moment.

“Oh, Zelda. Dear.”

“Oh, stop it. Stop it!” Zelda moved her hand forcefully, successfully hitting Lilith square in the nose, causing the demoness to fall backwards, clutching at her face. So, she felt pain like the rest of the world, did she? Why did she still look like Mary? Zelda’s head was spinning, her faculties slowly returned to her as the cocaine high settled in.

“I told you I would be back.” Lilith wiped at blood that trickled from her nose. Had Zelda hit her so roughly?

“Not _really_. You did not tell me that.”

“You had to know I would come back for you Zelda. I wouldn’t have let you…”

“Don’t say that. You let me suffer under _his_ hand. You stood there and you watched! You were present the whole time and you did _nothing_.” Zelda had the right mind to strangle the woman bent before her. Instead she reached clumsily for toilet paper and pressed it towards Lilith, the pair fighting until Zelda pressed the tissue to Lilith’s nose.

“I tried to save you.” Lilith protested.

“No.” Zelda shook her head. “No, you didn’t. None of it makes sense. I don’t know if you’re out to hurt my family or help us.”

“To be honest,” Lilith sniffled, voice muffled as Zelda pressed the tissue to her face a bit more forcefully than was necessary. “I was neither looking out for nor harming your family. But I grew fond of Sabrina, of her willpower and her bravery and her cunning nature. You raised her well, Zelda. And since learning about myself I have only wanted what was best for Sabrina. We both know the path of night was her prescribed future. She had to be strong enough to defeat what we are about to face.”

“But you haven’t always known that. It still serves Satan’s purposes to have her as a witch.”

“But he doesn’t know that we can use what he has created against him.”

Zelda had braced the back of Lilith’s head, kept her other hand pressed against her bleeding nose. Lilith’s eyes were staring up at her, helpless, pleading, imploringly. “Why did you come back?” Zelda’s voice weakened – annoying relief flowed through her at the realization that Lilith was in her embrace and she was safe.

“I had to come back for the coven. For Sabrina. For you, Zelda.” Lilith lifted her hand to Zelda’s cheek but Zelda released her, pushed her hand away. Lilith stood, looked at her face in the mirror. With an easy flick of her wrist she healed herself. “I must admit,” Lilith let her hands fall to either side of the sink, staring at her pale reflection as she spoke. “I did not protect you as I should have. I should have done more to stop things, to keep you from him. I knew what he was capable of, I knew of his horrid intentions for the coven. I only thought that it might distract him so that we could overtake him. I had not intended on Adam showing up and ruining things.”

“Adam was inconsequential. Perhaps not to Mary, but to you…”

  
“I cared for him.” Lilith insisted. “I…” she hung her head. Zelda watched her, saw a humanness that had not been there before. Had Mary’s anatomy so warped and changed her? Had Sabrina’s humanness morphed _the_ Lilith’s very being?

“You didn’t try to protect me.” Zelda whispered, wrapped her hands around her knees, holding herself. Wanting to push and needle Lilith. There was a strange discomfort in this openness.

Lilith turned on her. Fury and rage and pain glowing in her gaze. “Why do you think I was there? Don’t you know that I only wanted to stop it, to protect you? I hated seeing you that way. You were being played as a necessary pawn in Lucifer’s scheme and I felt helpless to stop it. It served you, didn’t it? To protect your family?”

“Once that horrid spell broke.”

“Could you have born it if you hadn’t been cursed? What he did to you…how he used you…”

“And what if I enjoyed it?” 

Lilith clenched her fists at her side, leaned against the vanity again. “Yes. You enjoyed it to a point, but I fear that he has…”

Zelda nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek stubbornly. She wiped it away hastily. “I wanted it.”

“No, Zelda.” Lilith slammed her fist against the counter. “No. Not that way.” She moved to Zelda, the pair struggling until Lilith had Zelda on her feet, up in her arms, had pulled her robe away from her body, back to the mirror, head in her hand twisted so that Zelda could see the bruises. “This is not what you deserved. They may only be marks but it’s gone deeper, hasn’t it? It went too far, Zelda. And for that I apologize…I…” Lilith had her pinned against the sink and Zelda realized her eyes were watery and she was upset. With herself, with Zelda, with Faustus, with their current predicament.

Their faces were so close to one another and Zelda’s chest twisted in pain.

“You’ve hurt more than just me, you know.” Zelda pushed at Lilith, pulled her robe back over her shoulder. Turning she found the door open, her sister asleep atop her bed, not stirring from her spot. She felt Lilith at her side. Staring reverently at her sister as well. She had suffered that evening and she deserved to rest.

“Come on.” Lilith grabbed at Zelda and the duo walked, staggered through the mortuary to the kitchen. Zelda turned on an overhead light and moved to her cigarettes while Lilith put on a pot of water to boil – as if she knew the kitchen like the back of her hand. “You’re speaking of Mary.” Lilith spoke as she rummaged through the cabinets until she found the mugs.

“She’s in pieces.”

“And for that I also feel terribly.”

“She doesn’t understand what’s happened to her. You’ve taken her identity, her sense of self, her being. It was reckless of you.”

“And I fooled you into falling for her. Only it wasn’t her.” Lilith added to her own list of misbehaviors.

Zelda dryly laughed. “To say the least. What you have done to her is perfectly vile.”

“And you getting drunk and high with her somehow helps to alleviate all that I’ve done? Is that it, Zelda?”

“Don’t you patronize me.” Zelda hissed, irritably puffing at her cigarette.

Lilith was silent as she made the tea, instinctively conjuring up some herbal remedy from Hilda’s vast collection of herbs and potions. Lilith had an easy way about herself in the kitchen, an ease that Zelda would not have necessarily pegged the woman to have. Soon she was carrying the cups to the table, settling into Sabrina’s chair beside Zelda.

Zelda peered into the steaming cup of tea set at her elbow. “I don’t want to be cursed again.”

Lilith cradled her mug in her hands, blew across the surface. “I can understand, Zelda, if you have no faith or trust in me, but I am here now to try and make amends. It will only soothe you. It’s a balm for what is hurting you. Or at least a beginning towards your process of healing.”

“And what if I don’t want to be healed?” Zelda tapped off her ashes.

Lilith shrugged, gathered her legs up beneath her. How calm she seemed for a woman who had just tangled with the devil and escaped his grasp. After sipping the tea herself, Lilith took one of Zelda’s cigarettes and lit it. “We have so much work to do and we can’t start with you like this.”

“I’ve been here since you’ve left, putting together the remnants of the coven, trying to keep up morale, trying to figure out what comes next. So, don’t even try to insinuate that I’m not capable…”

Lilith laughed. “You’re more than capable, Zelda. You have shown your devotion, your strength, and your ability. Don’t ever doubt that. What I am concerned about is what it is you’re doing to yourself. And it started long before this, didn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Zelda snapped under her breath.

“Zelda, Zelda, Zelda. Always so strong for everyone else, aren’t you?”

“And who else would do the job? Even when Edward was alive I was still practically in charge of things. They look up to me, they expect me to be strong, to take control…”

Lilith’s hand fell atop Zelda’s. The touch was magnetic, silencing.

They sat in silence.

Lilith removed her hand. She brought the cigarette to her lips, to inhale and exhale a stream of smoke to the ceiling.

Zelda’s mind whirled of its own volition. For she had not touched the tea. There had been no mind shift, no mind alteration. She supposed this was the turn, the beginning of the end of the high. Things were somewhat clearer, but she felt an odd sense of calm, of peace. As if Lilith’s hand had brought that to her. Strange what a demoness could be capable of.

She reached for the tea and sipped. Mint and rose and lavender colored her tongue in soothing sensations. She had never tasted such strong, calming flavors before. And she tasted not a hint of magic in it. No adverse effect.

There was the sound of nighttime all around them. Zelda became acutely aware of each and every little noise, as if she were hearing it all for the first time. The crickets in the trees outside, a distant owl, the light wind blowing through branches, the clicking of a clock in the hall keeping time like a heartbeat in the night.

Lilith beside her.

It was a silent arrival onto the other side of chaos.

And yet there was no trust. No peace at all.

“We will rehab you. Together.” Lilith spoke resolutely.

“No.” Zelda shook her head, but knew her protest was futile. “What about Mary? I think you owe it to her.”

“I will heal her in time.” Lilith spoke calmly.

They both sensed the other presence in the doorway. Zelda looked up to see Hilda’s adorably sleepy, worried gaze as she wrapped herself tightly in her robe. Her eyes widened when she saw the company Zelda was keeping. “Lilith?”

Lilith nodded, stood to greet Hilda with an adoring kiss to her cheek, took her hands into her own. “I’ve heard your every prayer, Hilda. Please know that.”

And Hilda’s cheeks grew rosy. “You’ll help her?”

Zelda slammed her fist against the table. “You. The both of you, in this together, isn’t it? Trying to save poor ol’ Zelda who’s gone off the rails, right? Isn’t it true? But the things is,” Zelda staggered to her feet, “I don’t want your help. I don’t _need _your help. So please stop this. Stop this at once.”

“Zelda, your blood pressure.” Hilda was at her side but she pushed at her.

“Shut up!” Zelda pulled away, shoulder falling against the wall. “I have things under control.”

“Sometimes, dear, we have to let go of control to truly master it.” Lilith was gaining on her and there was nowhere else to run. “Now, Zelda. I don’t want to hurt you but we’re going away for a little while. The two of us.”

“No.” Zelda shook her head. “No.”

“Please, love.” Hilda was at her other side.

Zelda shrunk away from them, falling down the wall. “No.”

And the drowsy darkness overcame her, her body going limp.

Was this what death might feel like?

There was no consciousness, only darkness.

Until her watery eyes fluttered open.

Whiteness. Brightness. Bright white lights around her. Softness encasing her body. Silk, fluffy white warmth.

Where the heavens was she?


	20. Chapter 20

She could make out a low hum filling the space, reverberating off the pristinely white surfaces, vibrating deep within her.

There was the smell of something akin to incense burning off in the distance, a mix of vanilla, rose, vetiver from what she could decipher.

The light was bright but not overwhelming and yet she saw no windows, only white walls, white drapes that hung from some unknown ceilings.

And there beside the bed upon which she rested was the body of Mary Wardwell seated with legs folded, hands relaxed open on her knees, glazed over blue eyes resting open in a trance.

“What in Satan’s name is going on here?” Zelda demanded, but found her voice was like the purr of a kitten, silenced in the room amidst the peaceful elements.

Lilith’s eyes flashed back to the world of the living, her fingers twitched. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. I’ve been waiting a long while.” Lilith floated to her feet, came to Zelda’s side in effortless motion – her long white robe flowing out behind her ephemerally.

“Where have you taken me?” Zelda whispered.

“We’re nowhere.” Lilith answered stoically, let her hand brush a curl of red from Zelda’s tear-stained face.

Zelda’s brow furrowed. “We cannot be _nowhere_.”

“And yet we are.” Lilith smiled.

“I didn’t need you to save me.” Zelda found that the increasing pressure inside of her head from the past weeks of dealing with the aftermath of hell’s collapse - the whole religion as they knew it, really – had significantly diminished.

The humming of the room continued. She could feel the vibrations rattling about in her head, as if the noise was shaking loose all that had been stuck, clogging her mind.

“I’m not going to save you.” Lilith rose from the bed.

“What do you mean?” Zelda sat up and instantly realized that before her was a great wall of verdant leaves glowing brilliant hues of greens and pinks and blues and purples. A waterfall spilled peacefully into a small wading pool. Brilliantly colored leaves covered the surface of the water, little flames of fire sprung up sporadically, hovered atop the glassy surface.

“You must save yourself.” Lilith spoke without turning around. The white material of her gown floated from her shoulders, pooled at her feet so that Zelda could make out the delectable curve of her body perfectly. Lilith turned back to Zelda whose eyes traveled the expanse of her exposed skin. The perfectly rounded breast, the pert nipples, the taut stomach, the smooth space between her legs, the toned thighs.

Zelda looked away. “What if I don’t need saving?”

For she had been coping. She had been okay. Hadn’t she? She was holding it all together, keeping it all in line.

All except for herself.

The walls grew brighter, forcing her attention to the space before her.

Whatever was this place where there was no time nor space nor being nor matter nor form?

She looked down and saw her own body was covered by a simple robe. Nothing more. Her chest was flushed red.

“Come and join me.” Lilith urged her, feet already sunk into the pool of water that had appeared before them.

Zelda wrapped her arms about herself feeling far too vulnerable in these surroundings. She shook her head, watched as Lilith moved further and further into the iridescent blue water. It shimmered as Lilith moved further into it, as if her presence affected the elements about her. Even the air around her took on a dazzling quality.

“I must be dreaming.” Zelda muttered, rubbed at her eyes. For it had to be a hallucination. Perhaps she’d gone a little overboard this time on something. She hadn’t been keeping the best track of what it was she was putting into her body. She could admit that.

“You’re not. You’re here.” Lilith responded without turning around to face Zelda.

“Well how do I leave this place?” Zelda called back.

“You can leave whenever you’d like.” Lilith shrugged, plunged under the surface of the water which shown brilliant hues of pinks and lavenders.

“Well I would like to leave.” Zelda felt her eyes widening as she watched the surreal display before her.

Lilith emerged from the water, opalescent water cascading down her body. She laughed. “I hardly think that’s the case since you’re still here.”

“How are you…what is happening?” Zelda was mesmerized by the sights, the sounds, the images, the smells about her.

“It’s a part of the ancient world. A part that only few know of today. It’s a shame more people don’t look for it, seek it out. It’s rather beautiful, isn’t it?” Lilith emerged from the water. Her gown poured back over her body. She moved to a small stove in a corner, upon which something warm and aromatic was cooking. She poured a chocolatey looking substance into two wooden cups and returned to Zelda’s side. “Drink this.”

“You’re going to poison me again.” Zelda did not reach for the cup.

Lilith chuckled. “I did not poison you before.” She held out the cup again. “It’s simply to soothe you.”

Zelda eyed the drink. “And if I drink this I won’t end up in some other dimension or reality or whatever Satan forsaken place this is?”

Lilith held the cup forward again, drank from her own while she waited.

Zelda took the cup and stared into the dark surface. Little pink rose petals floated at the surface. It seemed to glow as everything else in the space glowed.

Lilith watched her, kept her calming gaze fixed upon her. “It will help with what hurts.”

Zelda’s eyebrow rose at that. “I think it may take more than some chocolate.” But she put the cup to her lips and drank curiously. The substance slid down her throat and instantly she felt her body warm, could sense a tingling sensation spread from her throat, down her spine, to the tips of her toes and out through her fingers. She looked at her hand, could see the heat radiated in light from within her. It was frightfully stronger than anything she’d ever experienced. And yet it was powerfully cleansing. A shock went through her brain.

The low humming vibration of the space amplified the sensation.

She sipped the chocolate again and found Lilith’s eyes. They were glowing blue. The lights from the fires in the leaves glowed.

Zelda’s eyes drooped. She was so very, very tired.

Lilith took the finished cup from her. “It’s alright, Zelda. Your body is healing as we speak.”

Her eyes fought to stay open. She had been fooled again, hadn’t she? Lilith had tricked her…there had been something in that drink…hadn’t there been?

Her body relaxed, she succumbed to the decadent pull of sleep, curled into the soft blankets and pillows about her. She was warm. She was inside of herself and yet outside of herself. And she could see it all before her.

The past, the present, the future.

Every person she had ever cared for. There was Hilda, her safety, her protector, her rock. There was Sabrina, insolent and stubborn and strong and smart and capable. Ambrose, so very much like her, so very much like his mother and father had been before their untimely death. There was Edward and that horrid Diana whom had ruined him, but whom Zelda had come to appreciate much too late. There was her mother, her father – her father and his stern looks.

He only had ever looked at her that way. As if she had somehow failed him. And she knew she had. She knew that she had been born incorrectly. She had been meant for so much more and yet her feminine being was a huge burden, a curse upon her and her father.

He had looked at her coldly, with contempt.

No one else saw it.

But she had. And she had wanted desperately to be different for him. If only she had been born with a penis between her legs like Edward had been. Perhaps her father would not have beaten her, taken out his anger and his frustration when she brought home perfect marks from the Academy. When she showed her capabilities, her strengths, her abilities.

She had failed him. She had humiliated him by being strong and gifted.

_“But he failed you.” _A voice whispered.

Faustus had been everything her father could ever want for her. He was kind, he was gentlemanly, he took care of Zelda, had her home by curfew, was respectful, and top boy.

They would have made a perfect pair. Zelda could see his potential, his strengths. At first she had disguised her help coquettishly. But he seemed to catch on to what it was she was doing. And he didn’t like it, didn’t want to be taking orders from a girl, nor shown up by one either.

So, he took to showing her the dominance and power that she could never have.

And she had taken the brunt of his lascivious advances. For if she could not have her own penis between her legs then she would take his. And she felt she deserved it.

_“You deserved to have an equal exchange of power.”_ The voice whispered.

There was a glimpse of something that she had never seen before. A glimpse of warm lights and sensual darkness. Bodies near to her, a kind understanding, a calm, an ease.

Dark hair tangled in her hands, blonde curls between her legs, sky blue eyes looking at her as lips met. A sense of home, a sense of belonging and peace.

She relished this, tried to hold onto the sensation that felt so very powerfully there and present. And yet the harder she tried to hold on, the more distant it became.

Until glowing darkness overcame her.

* * *

Her eyes flashed open to the ambient calm of the white room. To the sound of the humming, the gentle trickle of the waterfall, the warm aromatic floral, earth scents around them, and Lilith folded at the side of the bed in reverent meditation.

The demoness stirred.

A tear slid down Zelda’s cheek.

Lilith was at her side, cupping her face, sliding her finger over the watery skin. “Come to the water with me.” Lilith took her hand. Her skin was warm and soft.

The humming made Zelda’s mind slow. The thoughts, the memories from her sleep magnified but then as she studied them she felt that they had somehow lost their potency. They felt distant and foreign to her.

She allowed Lilith to pull her onto her feet. The silky white robe fell from her shoulders as they stepped forward together. Her skin was revealed, laid bare to the electric air around them. She felt it holding her, supporting her.

Lilith turned, those brilliant blues calming as she led them into the water’s shimmering surface.

It was warm, but not too warm. It seemed to change with each step and Zelda felt her skin tingling as she passed deeper and deeper into the surface. She felt her center meet with the water and it was at first uncomfortable and then all at once it was warm and calming. Her stomach quivered as she moved a bit deeper, her breasts hardened as the kaleidoscopic water rushed to cover them.

Lilith was at her side, took her in her arms and pulled her under the water.

At first Zelda’s eyes closed in protection, shielding herself from the vibrancy around her. Until she could no more keep them closed and they burst open. There were the brilliant, phantasmagoric colors swirling around her and Lilith’s wide blue eyes before her.

They surfaced together, Zelda panting.

Strong currents of sensation washed over her, shocking her system. She was crying and yet she felt at peace inside of herself.

Lilith steadied her, instructed her to lie flat on her back, to look up.

They floated above the water together, heads near to one another as they stared into a ceiling-less sky. It seemed to go on forever above them and there were stars that shimmered as brilliantly as the lights in the greenery about them.

It was reality and yet it was not.

It was there and yet nowhere.

Zelda’s hand passed over her chest, grazed her own nipple which responded beatifically to her touch. She palmed her breast, held it in her hand as if she had just discovered it for the first time. Her eyes stayed fixed on the sky that went on for forever above her. The water about her was warming. She felt it very acutely as it flowed inside and then outside of her. Washing away all that was and all that had been.

Her hand slid from her breast, trailed down her stomach, moved between her legs, following the motion of the water.

There had always been strength inside of her. She realized this, realized that it was something more than what the men around her possessed.

She had been born perfectly.

She was being reborn perfectly.

She could feel Lilith’s eyes upon her, watching her motions as she stood beside her.

Zelda watched back, watched then as the demoness emerged from the water, retreated to her mat where she settled her body atop its surface and folded her legs. “Come sit with me.”

And Zelda obeyed.

She lifted herself from the water and felt it slowly melt away from her, her skin no longer wet but moist. She folded herself into a seated position before Lilith no longer afraid of her body. Lilith took her hands in her own, a powerful shock raced through her.

They were connected, they were one.

And yet they were also no one and yet they were also everyone and yet they were also them.

There was a strong pull, an intense connection that flowed between them.

The humming overcame Zelda’s senses, made her heart slow, made her head clear. Her eyelids became heavy as she stared into Lilith’s burning blue eyes.

And in those eyes, she saw multitudes of worlds. Scenes of what had been and what could be. A world far from the one that surrounded them in Greendale, something stronger and richer and fuller than that, magnifying what it could be. Lilith was showing her what it was that she had planned for the future and it was unlike anything Zelda had ever witnessed before. It was light and it was strength and it was healing in ways Zelda had never thought possible.

* * *

They laid side by side on the bed.

The hum was calming.

There was no sense of time and the moment felt infinite.

There had been periods of meditation, of bathing, of quiet contemplation, of sharing nourishment. There was a reclamation of her body so that Zelda paid no heed to the robe she had arrived in. Now she walked with complete comfort in her being.

And Lilith exalted her, placed her hands along her energy pathway, breathing new ways, new ideas, new thoughts, new health into her.

Zelda allowed this. Zelda welcomed it.

Zelda was a student learning to be a master.

“I think it’s time.” Lilith whispered as she trailed a finger down Zelda’s sternum. 

Zelda turned her head to regard Lilith. “Time for what?”

Lilith smiled, reached upwards to clasp Zelda’s cheek. Her finger ghosted over Zelda’s lips as her eyes took in every last detail of Zelda’s face. 

“Time for my high priestess to return and rule at my side.”

Zelda’s brow furrowed at this, lips pursing to debate this point, but Lilith kept her face held tightly in her hand, barred her from looking away.

“It is up to you whether or not you remember this. I cannot promise you that things will be easy from here on out, but I have shown you what you are capable of, what _we_ are capable of together. Do you understand?”

And Zelda did in that moment. There were the doubts, of course, the past suddenly rushing to the forefront, threatening to tear down all that the space had helped to expunge.

But she knew that she could not stay here forever, either. There was a world waiting for her. 

“I think…” Zelda whispered, moved ever so much closer into the pressure of Lilith’s hand. “I’m ready.”

Lilith smiled at her, stroked her hair and lowered her face so that they were close to one another. “All in good time, Zelda. All in good time.”

Her lips tasted of sweet spices and soothing peppermint and electricity. The current pulsated, flowed through Zelda.

And then she was tumbling through time and space.


	21. Chapter 21

The room was spinning around her, she was coughing, felt something warm and thick seeping from her nose.

Her eyelids were heavy so that she struggled to flutter her eyes open, to register her surroundings. And when she lifted her hand to her nose and pulled it away she could see the deep crimson of blood.

“What have you done to her?” Hilda’s voice filtered into her subconscious.

Hilda. She wanted to embrace her sister, but she was withered and weak on the floor. Peering about she realized that she was back in the mortuary’s dimly lit kitchen.

Had no time passed?

“She’s fine.” Lilith. Lilith was at her side, pressing a cloth to her nose, blue eyes coming into view as she forced Zelda to look up at her so the bleeding might cease.

Hilda was at her other side, stroking red curls from her cheek. “You’re alright, love. You’re alright.”

“What the heavens just happened?” Zelda groaned, the weightless sensation of having just been floating had come crashing down and now she was in her body, terribly sunk into the sensations of what it was she had done to herself.

“I took you away.” Lilith whispered, brow creased with concern.

“But nothing changed.” Zelda felt as if she might be sick.

“Yes, well, it couldn’t be that easy, now could it? What would you have learned?”

Zelda grimaced, pushed at Lilith.

She longed for the white room, for the healing waters, for the peace she had felt in there, in her body, in her mind. Anything would be better than these blasted torturous sensations now racing through her body.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Zelda fell forward.

“Oh, oh, uh…alright. Up you go.” Hilda was worried, she could tell. But she and Lilith helped her to her feet and they somehow managed to make it to the powder room in the hall just in the nick of time.

Zelda fell to her knees before the toilet. It felt like everything inside of her was coming up, not only bile, but all that had been poisoning her was released. With each new heave another thought, another toxic feeling, another release of something she had been holding onto came up. She felt each emotion acutely, felt as Lilith ran soothing circles over her back, as Hilda held back her hair.

And she vomited until she could stand it no more, until she felt utterly empty and miserable and defeated and weak. And she leaned back against the wall, let Hilda wipe off her mouth, allowed herself to be cleaned and cared for by these two women. Her eyes were heavy, she felt exhausted.

“She needs to sleep. She’s just been through quite the reprogramming. It will take time.” She heard Lilith assuring Hilda, felt her body being lifted and carried up the stairs to her bedroom.

* * *

She slept like the dead.

When her eyes finally opened she had no idea what day it was, nor the time, nor even the century.

She could see the sun filtering through the window. Perhaps it was midday, for the sun fell just in that one spot where it illuminated the portrait of her mother on the wall.

The door wiggled open and Hilda popped her head in. “Oh! You’re awake.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

Hilda pushed open the door, carrying a tray of food and hot tea – as if she knew Zelda would awaken at just that moment. “Oh, only a few hours really. You slept through the night without so much as moving. I thought you might be dead, but Lilith assured me you were just fine.” She sat the tray on the bedside table.

Zelda reached for her, pulled her to sit on the edge of the bed.

Hilda smiled down at her, reached out to stroke her hair, to cup her cheek. “What happened?”

Zelda shook her head, wrapped her arms about Hilda’s waist, looking up into her eyes. “I don’t know. She took me somewhere – it was…indescribable.”

Hilda nodded. “How do you feel, love?” She placed the back of her hand on Zelda’s forehead.

Zelda considered her body. She felt a bit like she’d been hit over the head with a shovel, though she’d taken a bit too much coke the night before so that would be understandable.

What was rather inexplicable, however, was the desire, the craving for the cocaine, for a stiff drink, anything to help her forget, seemed missing. She had no desire other than to sit with her sister, to perhaps eat the toast she’d brought and have the floral scented tea Hilda had concocted. “Hungry.” She mused.

Hilda smiled and sat with her while she ate, while Zelda tried to explain all that had transpired in the apparently mere minutes she’d been passed out on the kitchen floor the night before. Though to her it had been beautiful, magical ages.

Zelda finished the toast – something she never did – and then glanced around. “Where is Lilith?”

“She had to leave. She said she would be back to check on you, though.”

Zelda frowned, fumbled for her cigarettes. “She’s always leaving.”

Hilda watched her light a cigarette. “She’ll be back. She cares for you very much.”

Zelda rolled her eyes.

“You seem to care for her a great deal, too.” Hilda ventured to say.

“Well what difference does it make?”

“Why are you still upset with her? She’s been fighting our battles with the Dark Lord. Fighting so that you can help her lead our coven, the way you’ve always wanted, lovey.”

“She lied to me.” Zelda huffed out a cloud of smoke. “_And_ she hurt Mary.”

“I do believe she will make amends with Mary.”

“She killed her, Hilda. I’m not sure how Mary is just supposed to forget and forgive what happened to her.”

Hilda eyed her sister, knew just what this was about. “Perhaps if she’s given the right opportunity and the support she needs, she can.” 

“I want to see Mary…I…I feel as if I should make some things right.” Zelda tapped off her ashes.

“Why don’t you have her over to dinner. I can cook something nice and perhaps healing.”

Zelda smiled at her sister, pulled her hand up to kiss the back of it. “I don’t say it nearly enough, Hilda but I…”

“You don’t have to say it, Zelds.”

“But I really mean it this time.”

“I know you do.”

* * *

Mary stood awkwardly on the front porch. Her hair was piled high atop her head, lacquered back and perfectly put into place. And she was pulling at her collar nervously when Zelda opened the front door. And Salam bounded out, winding his body between Mary’s legs.

“Oh!” She stumbled slightly. Zelda wondered if she’d had a few drinks before coming, felt her brow creasing in concern. “What a cute kitty.” Mary swept down to pet Salem between the ears and he purred.

“He’s Sabrina’s. His name is Salem. Please, come in.” Zelda reached out for Mary’s arm and escorted her inside.

“W-welcome, welcome, Ms. Wardwell!” Hilda was standing near the foot of the stairs. Had she put on extra make-up? She looked somehow more beautiful than she had only moments before. Was that that perfume Zelda had brought her from Spain?

Zelda eyed her sister curiously. Hilda looked annoyed back, but kept her smile on for Mary.

“Hilda!” Mary exclaimed, moving to embrace the younger Spellman aunt. “You needn’t call me Ms. Wardwell. We’re not at school.”

Hilda smiled nervously. “Of course not.”

“Ms. Wardwell!” Sabrina called from the top of the stairs and the young blonde witch was in Mary’s arms in an instant, hugging her tight.

Zelda met Mary’s eyes over her niece’s shoulder, could sense that something was melting inside of the schoolteacher. She relaxed in Sabrina’s tender embrace. “You’re feeling better?” Sabrina asked as she pulled away, looking into Mary’s bewildered eyes.

Mary nodded her head quickly. “Yes, yes. Thank you for asking.”

Had she been ill?

“Can I take your coat?” Hilda was offering to undress her. Zelda eyed her sister curiously.

“Oh, yes.” Mary shrugged off one shoulder and Hilda helped with the rest of the army green pea coat. “Thank you.”

“There are hors d’hoeuvres in the sitting room. Please.” Hilda ushered them all into the living room. Zelda thought she saw Hilda sniff the collar of Mary’s coat.

Zelda stoically watched the evening play out before her. Hilda had purposefully not served any alcohol. They managed with apple cider. The pot roast she’d concocted had a tranquil effect on all of them and the final chocolate cake which was decadently decorated with rose petals and lavender was the final soothing luxury.

Mary’s eyes looked pleasantly relaxed behind her spectacles, the tremor in her hand absent as she bit into the last of her slice of cake. “That was heavenly, Hilda.”

Hilda tittered delightfully.

“She’s nothing short of a miracle in the kitchen.” Zelda spoke serenely, hand covered Hilda’s atop the table. Lingered there a moment longer than was deemed sisterly.

Mary took notice.

Mary looked refreshed after dinner.

While Sabrina helped Hilda clean up in the kitchen, Mary followed Zelda out to the porch for an after-dinner smoke. The cigarette was calming in the crisp evening air.

“Thank you for inviting me.” Mary lowered her head shyly.

“It seems my sister is rather taken with you.” Zelda spoke brazenly, as if she were testing the waters.

“Wh-what…oh, yes. Well…I don’t know why.” Mary touched her hair awkwardly, brought her cigarette to her lips. “I see her from time to time when I go to Dr. Cerberus’ for a new book. She always has the most interesting recommendations.”

“I can imagine.” Zelda exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“They make a lovely pair. Her and Dr. Cerberus.”

Zelda nodded. “Certainly they do, though…” she turned to eye Mary. “Perhaps she might look rather pretty with you.”

She watched Mary’s cheeks turn bright red. “Oh, uh…no. No. I would never, could never…she’s with Dr. Cerberus.” She looked quite possibly scandalized.

Zelda laughed to herself. “Perhaps that’s not such a hurdle. If you liked her, of course.”

“Of course, I like her, but I…”

“No need to get flustered. Maybe I was presuming…”

Mary eyed her, looked as if she’d been caught red-handed. She adjusted her glasses, inhaled deeply on her cigarette, looked out to the grass before her. “I’m not a stranger to Sapphic feelings, Zelda.”

“Sapphic.” Zelda let the word roll around in her brain. “Interesting.”

It was Mary who laughed then and Zelda found she quite liked her laugh. It was different from Lilith’s laughter. Lilith, whom she had spent an eternity with. Who looked identical to the woman now seated beside her, but whom was not Lilith. Lilith who had left her. Again.

“Mary, were you ill?” Zelda asked.

Mary looked down at her lap, toyed with the hem of her skirt. “No. Not so much ill…just…” She looked up, tears in her eyes. Tears she fought to keep from spilling over.

Zelda nodded, reached out to close the distance between them, taking her hand. “I’m afraid I didn’t help you much. Before…I was…going through something rather similar. Perhaps still am. But I feel that I’ve put you in a bad spot.”

Mary allowed Zelda to hold her hand. Though she did not speak for a long time. Instead she looked out to the yard before them, to the sky above, to the moon, half-formed.

“You know, I’ve always been so very perfect. I don’t think I’ve missed a day of teaching in all my thirty years at Baxter High. I just…”

Zelda squeezed her hand. “Mary, there are things that you should know.”

Mary looked at her, perplexed.

“I think, Zelda, that perhaps it is I who should do the telling.”

They both startled at the familiar voice that materialized before them.


	22. Chapter 22

Mary very nearly fell from her chair in fright, cigarette slipping from her finger, burning a hole in her wool skirt. She shook, her blue eyes wide and frightened.

“What in Lucifer’s name are you doing here now?” Zelda snapped. And why did the demoness have to still bare Mary’s same resemblance? Why hadn’t she taken on some other form?

But then, Zelda, realized, she would no longer be _her_ Lilith. The thought of Lilith being in any other body did not make sense to her, though she could tell that this was quite confusing for the poor schoolmarm quaking in fear and speechless beside her.

“I promised I would make it right with her, didn’t I?” Lilith flashed her eyes to Zelda before calmly moving to stamp out the still burning cigarette that had rolled to the deck beside Mary’s chair.

“W-what…” Mary whimpered.

“Mary, listen to me.” Lilith knelt at her side, was gentle with her as a parent with a frightened child. “I know this is rather a lot to take in right now, but I want to give you some peace about the months that are missing from your mind.”

“You – you, but you look…” Mary’s eyes were watering, her body still quivering, hand clasped over her mouth.

“I know.” Lilith nodded, pushed her long hair over her shoulder. “It’s rather confusing to see yourself, isn’t’ it?”

And Mary could only nod.

“I want to explain it to you, I want you to understand what has happened to you.”

“Dear me, what’s happening here?” Hilda had rounded the corner with steaming mugs of tea but now stood frozen in place. Her smile slowly fading away as she took in the frightened state of the object of her current affections.

“Lilith has decided to talk to Mary.” Zelda announced, stubbing out her cigarette and rising from her chair. “Leave the tea, Hilda. I think we should let them speak alone.”

Lilith had stood, was leaning against the railing of the deck, arms crossed over her chest. Mary looked as if she might jump out of her seat and run away but Zelda placed a calming hand on her arm, met her gaze. “Mary, I know that this is a lot for you to handle right now, but I think you need to listen to what she has to say. She won’t harm you.”

Mary’s eyes shifted from Zelda’s face, her eyes widened in fear. “You…you! You killed me.” Her hands went to her neck.

“Well, now, dear, I hardly killed you. You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

Zelda rolled her eyes and turned to Lilith. “She’s in no state for games, Lilith. Please be honest with her.”

“Of course, I will be, Zelda. I don’t want to see her hurting any more than you do.” Lilith spoke through clenched teeth.

Zelda nodded, turned to find Hilda at Mary’s side, pressing their hands together. “It’s alright, love. We won’t let anyone harm you.”

“You…you’re witches. Aren’t you?” Mary looked between the three women.

Hilda caught Zelda’s eyes and then turned back to Mary. “Yes, yes, love. We are.”

“You’ve studied the occult for some time, haven’t you, Mary?” Lilith moved slyly, settling into the chair Zelda had just vacated, lifting a cigarette to her lips and lighting it with the flick of her fingers.

Mary nodded, watched as the enchanting woman blew a stream of smoke up to the night sky.

“I could tell, based on your large collection of books.”

Mary held tight to Hilda, as if afraid of being alone with her look-alike. “You…your name. It’s Lilith?”

Lilith nodded.

“As in the first wife of Adam, Lilith? Mother of demons? Lover and slave of Lucifer Morningstar?” 

Lilith exhaled and sunk down into the chair, looking as uncomfortable as Zelda had ever seen her before. “Slave.” Lilith rolled the word around on her tongue. “An interesting word choice.”

Zelda’s hip met with the railing of the deck, her eyes shifting from one identical woman to the other. Though the way they held themselves, the way they looked could not be further from identical. How had she been so duped by Lilith? Hadn’t she known all along that it had not been Mary Wardwell?

“Slave, yes. I suppose I am a slave to Lucifer. Though I did, genuinely, love him for a time. Now, you see, he uses me for his own wiles. I am not, have not been, my own self since the beginning of time. I have belonged to one man or another, never able to be my own master. I have served and known nothing more than servitude. You must see, Mary, that when I overtook your body that evening, it was a command given to me by the Dark Lord himself. Yes, there is a Dark Lord. But we are working against that now. Things are changing.” Lilith looked to the identical woman beside her. “I hope that you can forgive me after I tell you what has happened. I hope you can see it in yourself to forgive me for using your body.”

Mary’s grasp on Hilda had loosened as she listened to the demoness speak. Hilda exchanged glances with Zelda, patted Mary’s hand and stood. “We’ll be right inside, love.” Hilda assured her.

Mary nodded. Zelda could tell that the initial shock of seeing herself had begun to wear off. Mary was as enchanted with Lilith as Zelda had been. She could sense this. Felt a ridiculous wave of jealousy flare up as Hilda put a hand on her back and walked with her into the house.

“Have a cup of tea, Zelds.” Hilda placed a mug down beside Zelda’s arm on the living room chair.

Zelda worried her lip, stared at the fire now blazing in the fireplace. Hilda sat down beside her, sipped her tea.

“It’s right of us, isn’t it, to leave her with her?” Zelda itched for some vice. It was a faint want, but there nonetheless. She picked up the tea cup.

“She’ll be fine. It was only the initial shock of it. Could you imagine? Coming face to face with yourself?”

“No.” Zelda spoke resolutely, absolutely hating the idea of it. Of having to face herself.

Though perhaps her other self might be better than she. A more loving, kinder person who might not have allowed all the thrilling evils that her own person had allowed.

Hilda twined their fingers together, sensing that Zelda was upset.

Zelda’s fingers slipped from Hilda’s to cup her mug. “You like her.”

“Wh-well…I, I…” Hilda twirled her fingers into her hair as she did when she was uncomfortable, bunched her hands into her sleeves.

“It’s quite alright.” Zelda sighed, reached to place a cigarette in her holder. Hilda held the lighter up for her. Their eyes met. Zelda saw her sister’s every thought in the blaze of the cigarette lighter. “Didn’t you notice that Mary was no longer Mary?”

“I had some suspicions, of course, but we were all dazzled by Lilith.”

“Yes, there’s something dazzling about her.” Zelda agreed, puffing away at her cigarette. “Satan, what is she out there telling her?” Zelda was up and pacing before the fireplace, unable to sit still.

“It’s between the two of them, Zelds.” Hilda was strangely calm in all of this.

Zelda stood still and looked at her sister. “You have no idea what it is to have your body overtaken, controlled by someone else. It was very irresponsible, reprehensible of Lilith to put Mary in such a situation.”

“You know, Zelda, at least she saved her. She very well could have left her for dead.” Hilda pointed out.

“It doesn’t excuse it.” Zelda crossed her arms over her chest.

And Hilda looked at Zelda as if she knew what and whom they were really talking about. “I do wish you’d tell me, Zelda.”

Zelda glowered, felt her stomach clench. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Hilda stood and came to Zelda, approaching her carefully, afraid she might lash out at her. And she very nearly might have, but instead she allowed her sister to press her hand to the middle of her back, right over her solar plexus. She felt a powerful jolt of energy surge through her, a flash of yellow light blinded her for a moment. A lightness overcame her, something more shaken loose. “Satan, Hilda.” Zelda reached for the mantel to steady herself.

“You’re healing.” Hilda assessed, carefully putting her arm about Zelda, steadying her.

Zelda felt a sob wrack her body. A sudden, unexpected wave of emotion overcame her, a tear found its way down her cheek.

“There, there, love.” Hilda patted her back. She welcomed Zelda into her arms, Zelda burying her face on her shoulder, allowed herself to be held.

Hilda pressed her lips to Zelda’s forehead. Zelda inhaled the familiar scent of her sister, looked at her through tear stained eyes. Hilda cupped her face, pressed her lips to Zelda’s damp cheeks, to the side of her lips. Zelda shifted, emboldened by her comfort, and kissed Hilda square on the lips reassuringly.

Their foreheads were pressed together, eyes closed in welcome serenity, when Zelda sensed that they were no longer alone in the room. She stood straight, turned to find Lilith holding up a teary-eyed Mary. Her arm wrapped tightly around her, guiding her to the comfort of a chair. Lilith’s eyes stayed strongly transfixed on Zelda, as if imploring her to know that she was okay.

Zelda nodded, moved to stand behind her straight-back chair.

“Oh, love.” Hilda sighed, moving to Mary.

“I’ve told her everything.” Lilith announced.

“Is there any whiskey?” Mary gasped, wiped at her tear-stained cheeks, more tears came.

“Let me get you some hot cocoa, love.” Hilda patted her hand and moved to the kitchen.

Mary rolled her eyes. Zelda brought her a cigarette and lit it for her, the flame illuminating the red around her blue, blue eyes.

“I’m certain it was a lot to take in.” Zelda whispered under her breath.

“Adam…Adam…”

“Yes, Satan killed Adam. I tried to protect him.” Lilith collapsed into Hilda’s normal seat, reached for her own cigarette.

Mary sniffled at this, looking as if she’d gotten used to the idea of it in the last few minutes. She already knew he was dead, but now she knew the truth of his death. Zelda had forgotten this slight blip in history. She remembered seeing Lilith with Adam, the way he had doted on her with such love and happiness in his eyes that afternoon Zelda had shown up uninvited. Adam had been kind and loving. So foreign for Zelda to grasp, to understand. Especially in a man. A mortal man, nonetheless. 

Satan had killed Adam because of Lilith.

Zelda could very well see this now. Adam had been a reprieve for the demoness.

As she looked at Lilith she could see that the she had genuinely been taken by Adam. He had shaken something loose inside of her, given her something that she had not had before. The Dark Lord had been threatened by Adam.

Had he been threatened by Zelda? Cursed her to suffer under Faustus’ hand to keep her away from Lilith? Was that wrong of her to surmise? It wasn’t as if she and Lilith meant anything to each other. They had merely shared some peaceful dalliances together.

Zelda’s fingers remembered the curve of Lilith’s body beneath her fingers, the swell of her breasts…her eyes shifted to Mary, realizing she would have the same curves.

A dull ache, a pain settled in her chest at the thought of naked flesh and rubbing up against another.

Mary sobbed.

Hilda returned with some hot cocoa for everyone, waving a hand through the thick cloud of smoke that had settled over the room. She moved to sit near Mary, placed a hand over her shoulders and handed her a mug.

“Mary,” Zelda found herself saying. “Perhaps you don’t know what to make of us at present, but please know that we are here for you now. We will protect you at all costs. You are no longer alone.”

Mary shuddered, her eyes incapable of producing more tears. She turned spiteful eyes to Lilith. “I hate you…I h-hate him. I hate him for what he’s done, for this mess he’s made.”

“I know.” Lilith rubbed her forehead. “It’s alright to hate…me, him, whoever you need to. For now. Perhaps it will help us move forward and effect the changes that need to happen.” Lilith’s eyes met Zelda’s. Her gaze burned deep into her and Zelda thought of the last kiss they had shared. In that room. As if she were awakening again.

Though the thought of it scared her, made her stomach knot.

They consoled Mary, invited her to stay the evening, for it was late. Hilda offered to show her to a room, leaving Lilith and Zelda alone in the sitting room.

Zelda poked the fire, thinking fondly of a stiff nightcap but unmoved to fix one for herself. The warmth of the fire and the calming cocoa was thawing something inside of her. 

“I sense, Zelda, that you are still upset with me.” Lilith spoke from Hilda’s chair.

Zelda turned to face Lilith. “Your senses are acute.”

“You’re scared.” Lilith’s eyes locked with hers and she felt herself teetering on the edge. Zelda could only nod her head, watching as Lilith gracefully unfolded her body from the chair, moved towards her. Lilith’s hands touched her shoulders, lightly, eyes seeking permission. “He can only have power over you if you allow him to.”

Zelda inwardly grimaced. Knowing this, yet unable to accept it. She was weak.

“Oh, Zelda.” Lilith whispered, curled her fingers into her ginger strands, watching as the strands slipped through her fingers. “Don’t you know what you mean to me? I only wanted to protect you.”

Zelda’s stomach twisted. “You didn’t protect me.”

“You have no idea, Zelda. No idea what forces were working against you, against me.” Lilith cupped her cheek, let her thumb caress her cheek.

“It was my fault, wasn’t it?” Zelda felt a frustrating tear slip down her cheek.

Lilith shook her head, wiped her tear away. “No. None of it was your fault. You did what you thought best.”

Zelda nodded, feeling foolish for having thought it was the right path.

“You have the title; _we_ have the power.” Lilith assured her.

Zelda’s eyes slipped to Lilith’s lips. She remembered what they had tasted like. She wanted to taste them again; there was a calm that she knew Lilith’s kisses could afford her. Lilith caressed her cheeks, willed her to take what it was she wanted.

It was light at first, Zelda pressed her lips to Lilith’s – an image of that white, bright space overcoming her, shooting through her body. She clasped onto Lilith, their bodies coming together tightly, Lilith holding her tight in her arms.


	23. Chapter 23

She felt arms about her middle, holding her tightly.

Her eyes flickered opened, squinting in the early morning sunlight. There was no pain about her eyes, no stomach upset, no racing heart, nor sweaty palms. She felt strangely, unfamiliarly well-rested, calm, clear.

And then her body tensed at the sensation of arms about her waist.

Who was holding her?

The body was lithe, small against her back. It could not possibly be Hilda. Hilda would be snoring in her ear if she were this close and this body felt nothing like her sister’s. 

Her heart sped up. But…_she_ hadn’t stayed the night, had she? Zelda distinctly remembered that Lilith had had to leave and Zelda had curled up in bed. Alone. Exhausted, yet anxious until Hilda’s magical tea elixir put her under and she’d passed out.

So then who was in bed with her now?

There was the faint scent of youth, of innocence and springtime.

Ah.

Her body relaxed and she turned in the bed gently, carefully so as not to wake her sleeping companion.

But the girl had not done this since she had been a young little thing. Something must have upset her, something was concerning her.

But in sleep Sabrina was the picture of perfection and relaxation. Her striking blonde hair laid messily against the pillow, her pert little pink lips pursed together, her cheeks were flushed from the heat of sleep. Her hands clasped at Zelda as Zelda repositioned herself in the bed. Sabrina seemed to grasp at her in need, in want. To be consoled, to be comforted. And Zelda swept her fingers over Sabrina’s sweet, pink cheek, pressing her blonde hair from her skin, smoothing it down.

Had she done this to Sabrina? Had she frightened her so?

She often forgot that the very person she fought so hard for, made such harsh, sometimes rash decisions for was this beautiful young woman. And Zelda forgot that she had so much influence over her. That all of Zelda’s moods, her behaviors, her actions were seen and closely followed, observed.

There had been a time when Sabrina had been about six and she’d rounded the corner on Zelda and a beau pawing at one another in the study. Sabrina had startled, been stunned into a sort of contemplative, shocked silence, then had raced away fearfully, wailing and crying. Zelda had had to leave her paramour to chase after the sensitive child, to assure Sabrina that she had not been harmed, that what that man was doing was completely natural and normal, and that she, Zelda, was okay.

Sabrina had clasped at her, held her tightly, protectively as if she belonged to her and only to her.

Zelda had forgotten about that moment. It was interesting what the mind could recall when it was not burdened with alcohol and mind-altering substances, when her young niece (now older and wiser) was in her arms again.

Sabrina’s eyes fluttered open. Those deep, dark, inquisitive orbs stared into Zelda’s very being.

“Why are you in bed with me?” Zelda whispered hoarsely, feigning annoyance.

Sabrina smiled and shrugged, stretching her arms before snuggling closer to her Aunt. “I wanted to make sure you were really okay.”

“Of course I’m okay.” Zelda’s brow furrowed, she held Sabrina closer.

“You weren’t. For a while.” Sabrina rested her forehead against Zelda’s chest.

Zelda felt a twist in her side, a little pain, a little self-chastisement creeping its way up her spine. Her eyes closed, pained. Of course, Sabrina had been watching. “No, no. I wasn’t.”

“It was Father Blackwood. He hurt you.” Sabrina whispered, let her fingers trail over Zelda’s side comfortingly.

Zelda inhaled. Exhaled.

Sabrina was no longer a child. She could perceive things; she knew what was happening around her. She was taking on the world, growing in her powers, in her individualism. Zelda could not protect her from the world anymore, nor did she wish to anymore.

“You always say, Auntie Zee, that we have each other, but you never act like you have us.” Sabrina needled. “But you do have us.” She sat up on her arm, looked down at Zelda. “Even when I’m really upset with you, I always…I always love you, Auntie.”

Zelda felt a foolish tear slip from the corner of her eye. She wanted to turn, to bury her face in the pillow. But Sabrina reached out and wiped the tear away, looking a bit as if she might also cry. “Oh, Sabrina.” Zelda wrapped the girl up in her arms and pulled her against her chest, held her tightly as she cried. The tears came hot and heavy and messy, undignified and unstoppable. And Sabrina pressed her tiny body down on top of Zelda and held on. Zelda felt the girl’s own tears dampening the front of her nightgown and it only served to make her cry more.

This had not been her intention. To wake up and release this torrent of unshed, unwelcomed tears.

But there was a tremendous release in it, a powerful letting go that forced loose all the jagged edges that had been stuck inside of her. The tears washed away, purified her body so that she finally felt exhausted. They diminuendo-ed to a natural stop and she laid breathing, matching Sabrina breath for breath.

“I only ever wanted to protect you.” Zelda whispered.

“I know.” The teen exhaled shakily, hugged Zelda tightly and then moved to get up. “But I’m not a little girl anymore, Auntie Zee. I’m powerful.” She looked down at Zelda.

Zelda could only nod in agreement, having witnessed the many miracles and feats her not-so-little niece had succeeded in accomplishing.

“But of course we’re all more powerful together.” Sabrina bent forward, brought her forehead to rest against Zelda’s.

Zelda could feel the strong life force of Sabrina where their skin met. Her eyes closed as she felt the great strength and vitality that her niece possessed, felt as it passed from the girl back into her tired body. It felt as if she were breathing again for the first time, her body suddenly alive and very awake, alert.

Sabrina sat up, wiped at her own tear-stained face. “It smells like Auntie Hilda is making my favorite pancakes.”

Zelda smiled, took Sabrina’s hand in her own and squeezed it. “You go ahead. I’ll be down in a bit.”

Sabrina nodded, leaned down to kiss her aunt’s cheek and then with a ridiculous amount of energy for the morning, bounded out of the room.

Zelda immediately missed Sabrina’s calming presence and longed for her to have not abandoned her to her own thoughts. But she needed a moment to recover. She realized what it was Sabrina had done, could feel the energy radiating throughout her being. She had sent her light and love, intensely. It pulsated and warmed her being.

The girl’s body had been the closest Zelda had been to anyone since Faustus. It was as if she had known just what it was her aunt had needed.

And now she was warm, her mind instinctively contemplating the curve of Hilda’s behind when she would bend down to take cookies out of the oven. When she would lean forward to hand Zelda a cup of tea and the buttons of her dresses – much, much too modest for Zelda’s tastes – would happen to come open and Zelda could see into the recesses of the material to the supple curve of her ample chest.

Her mind flicked to the slickness of Lilith’s (Mary’s) body, the taut muscles, the finely tuned instrument that she was and her ever capable fingers. The wild gleam of her brilliant eyes, the way her red lips would close about a cigarette carelessly, the way her legs looked in a pair of heels, tight and strong and she wanted her to step on her.

Her body hummed, needed, wanted. She shifted, dared to let her hand slide from her collarbone, across her breasts, her stomach, to move over her warmed center. But she merely clasped, let her hand flatten over herself. And then stillness.

There was fear.

But there was safety in Hilda’s breasts, in the dexterous fingers of the schoolmarm turned demon, demon turned schoolmarm.

Her body rose to meet her hand, moving of its own accord at first, enjoying the reawakening, the pressure. She rocked, hand still over silk nightgown and lacy underthings. There was still a barrier, still not fully in contact and yet not not in contact. And it felt good. It felt good to do it to herself, for herself.

The motion sped up, she felt her cheeks flush warm, she pushed the hot blanket away from herself. The palm of her hand was not enough. Her eyes slid shut as she rearranged herself so that her fingers pulled up her own nightgown, pressed past lace, met with warm wetness. And she went to work playing out images of straddling Hilda in the kitchen, of fucking Lilith against the bookcase in Mary’s bedroom, surprising herself with the forceful image of shoving books from Mary Wardwell’s desk to the ground and undoing the tightly wound woman atop the wooden surface, of tightening her hand around Faustus’ throat while she rode him roughly until she felt herself coming undone, her breathing erratic, her body pulsing in decadent, delicious waves of ecstasy. And she fell back against the bed, letting her sticky hand dangle off the side of it, her naked lower half open to the cool air of the room about her, bringing her back down to earth.

How she had missed this feeling, this glow. She reveled in it until her breathing returned to normal.

She found her legs again, reached for a cigarette and lit one without the hassle of her holder. The smoke burned pleasantly in her lungs.

She washed up in the bathroom and then wrapped herself in her silk robe, placed a fresh cigarette in its rightful holder, and moved from her bedroom to ascend the stairs to the lovely morning of pancakes and family that would stretch out before her.

Only she collided with someone familiar and yet not familiar in the hall.

“Oh!” Zelda reached out to steady the stranger and found herself wrapped up in Mary.

“Oh.” Mary gasped in return, her hair was frazzled and no longer in its lacquered state. She looked a bit hungover and bewildered, as if she might possibly be ill.

“Are you alright?” Zelda let the back of her hand rest against the woman’s forehead.

“Yes.” Mary nodded, then shook her head no. Her eyes closing behind her dark-rimmed glasses. She was wearing some strange assortment of Sabrina’s sweatpants and sweater. She looked a bit like a small child, despite the lovely creases in her skin.

“Come, come. Hilda will fix you right up.” Zelda steadied Mary, slipped an arm about her waist, and then felt a ridiculous warmth spread through her cheeks as she did so.

Mary’s body felt the same as Lilith’s. She even smelled similar, though it was honeysuckle instead of musk. There was a difference, but Zelda’s freshly-sexed addled brain was having trouble distinguishing.

“Look who I found in the hallway.” Zelda announced as they entered, ushering Mary into Hilda’s empty seat, glad to have her out of her arms.

“Oh, love. You look like death. Let me get you some tea.” Hilda hopped to, knowing exactly what it was their guest would need. Though Hilda’s eyes passed over Zelda as she moved to the tea kettle, appraised her sister and seemed to know, just from looking, what it was Zelda had done. A little smile pulled at the edge of her lips.

Zelda rolled her eyes and took her normal seat, tapping off her ashes, picking up the Aftenposten that was spread out over her plate.

Breakfast as normal. The sounds of bacon sizzling, the crack of eggs, the crack of the newspaper, the smoke of her cigarette, Sabrina’s brilliant smile as she cut into the last of her blueberry pancake, Ambrose with a fresh jar of peanut butter and some vintage novel, the spread of butter on toast, and now Mary in the midst of it all.

The brunette looked about her, bewildered. Unaccustomed to mornings at the mortuary.

She accepted the cup of tea that Hilda placed at her elbow and the piece of buttered toast. “Eat this love, it will settle your stomach.” Hilda’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, patting her gently. Mary looked up at her appreciatively, quizzically. “There’s no magic to it, well perhaps the tea blend has a bit of magic in it, but only something that will help with the pains.” Hilda assured her and then moved to her sister to give her her cup of coffee. And Zelda took Hilda’s hand in her own, held her so that she couldn’t move away so easily.

She looked up to Hilda and smiled at her appreciatively. “Thank you.” And then she pressed a light little kiss to the back of Hilda’s hand and released her.

Ambrose and Sabrina stared at one another across the table. Zelda felt Mary’s eyes on the “sisters”.

Zelda straightened her newspaper and began reading again.


	24. Chapter 24

Her fingers glided across the mahogany of the desk. Remembering.

It smelled of him. Everywhere.

Her eyes flashed to the bookshelf. She thought of him behind her, thought of the way his hand would wrap around her neck, his teeth sunken into her shoulder, his other hand clasped firmly against the cheek of her bottom, holding her against him.

The school had reopened. Classes had been forced to resume. They could not keep the children away from the books. There was magic to learn, histories to be taught.

But it would be different now. There was no division of male and female. Female witches ranked as high as wizards – for many of the forbearers of the religion had been women. Strong, powerful women.

And the school was under the tutelage of the High Priestess Zelda Spellman. And things were different now – Faustus Blackwood, absent, dishonored, demeaned. The Elders deceased, the boy’s club dissolved. A new era had arisen out of the shambles of what had just transpired. Though all was still on shaky ground. There was uncertainty in Hell.

A battle was being waged between Lilith and Lucifer. A battle of wills.

Lilith could come and go, but it seemed she had gained strength over Lucifer in his time spent inside Nicholas. She had somehow managed to lock him away in the infernal pit.

Zelda’s hand clasped over her throat. She swallowed, as if testing her ability to do so.

The room was so dark. Foreboding. It felt oppressive.

She stood behind the desk, hands planted firmly atop its surface as she surveyed the room about her. Remembered the way she’d cowered on the wall directly opposite where she was now, the time Faustus had slammed a glass tumbler directly to the left of her head, glass pricking her skin, whiskey wetting the fur of her collar.

It would not do. These walls, these floors, these things.

She reached for her cigarette case, her golden lighter, her holder. She inhaled the first puff decadently, sat down in the chair and closed her eyes. She saw just what it was she would have. The histories of the women who had come before, who had founded the Church of Night, who studied the moon and its meanings, the stars, quantum physics, the natural world. They would line the shelves of the room. The dark wooden walls would turn black with gold trimming, the stark window coverings that kept out the light would alter to allow the sun and its magical healing properties in, and there would be a great forest of plants – monsteras and palms – clinical and clean with hints of leopard, pillows, wallpaper. Tasteful, discreet, Golden era. And a sleek art deco black desk with cosmic light fixture hung above.

She opened her eyes to find it made so, transformed into a space that was all Zelda Spellman, that did not remotely resemble what had come before.

She sunk back into her chair, pleased.

Until the doors to the office burst opened. She came to stand, thrown off by this interruption. “Sister Friedman, whatever are you…”

There was Nathaniel Kresslin at her side, a smart little smirk on his lips. “This boy refuses to take part in the history of witchcraft. He has been rude to his fellow classmates and made derogatory statements about witches, not to mention comments about my teaching and about _your_ leadership. I told him that this was unacceptable and that he would have to answer to you.”

Zelda’s eyes flashed to the young man, whom she had seen around before. He had been one of Faustus’ boys, one of the chosen. It would appear that his allegiances had not died.

“You’re not even _really_ in charge, are you?” Nathanial sneered. “Father Blackwood is still the High Priest, is he not?”

Zelda took a deep breath, tapped off her ashes, looked to Sister Friedman. She dismissed her with her eyes. The older school teacher glanced at her warily, but Zelda nodded, took a seat behind her newly formed desk, admired its sleekness, its lack of christening by fornication. Sister Friedman left, closing the door behind her. Locking Zelda in with the smug looking Nathaniel Kresslin.

“Sit down.” Zelda instructed without raising her voice.

Nathaniel did not sit down.

She pulled at her cigarette, reached for her notebook, a pen. “It would appear that in Father Blackwood’s absence I am the interim principal of this institution so it would seem that I am in charge for the foreseeable future.” Here she licked her finger and turned to Nathaniel’s profile in her notebook. “It would appear you have a history of acting out when things are not agreeable to you, am I correct in that assumption? This was probably a trait that Father Blackwood found agreeable; however, I am not Father Blackwood and this behavior will not work from here on out at the Academy.”

Nathaniel’s face shifted from amused to annoyed. He laughed at this, clasped the plush black chair across the desk from Zelda. “You don’t get to tell me how to act, bitch.”

Zelda’s eyebrows rose at the insult. It only took her one tiny flick of her eyelashes for the boy to be bound up and backed nearly to the crackling fireplace. His eyes looked less certain than they had only a moment before, less defiant.

“Now you’ve just crossed an unnecessary line.” Zelda spoke boredly, tired by this clichéd masculine exhibition. The gag in his mouth would shut him up from saying anything more utterly stupid. “I suppose as punishment you can stay in my office the rest of the day. Perhaps you might like to read about Hekate, one of the most influential of the Greek goddesses in witchcraft. She might give you some insight into you drivel contempt for female authority.” And with the flick of her wrist the boy was sat in a chair, book flying from her shelf to rest in his bound hands, his head forced to look at the pages, his eyes pried opened.

She laughed to herself, put out her cigarette. There was work to accomplish, she had no time for these boyish tantrums. She would not stand for it. Not now. 

And just as she had put her head down to concentrate for some uninterrupted planning time, she felt the air change, a welcome pull, a settled calm before the storm erupted and then the study’s doors magicked themselves open. The lights burned brighter for a moment, blinding Zelda momentarily.

The demoness appeared as if she had just returned from hell. And the faint whiff of fire and brimstone would indicate this was a true assumption. And it took Zelda a moment longer to register that the face Lilith had stolen from the schoolmarm was now slashed down the side. A perfect laceration across her eye, a split in her lip, a dark circle forming about the eye-socket.

“What the devil happened to you?” Zelda was on her feet, moving to Lilith whom she had not seen for weeks.

“You’ve redecorated.” Lilith noted, voice airy and breezy and unconcerned for her physical appearance. It would appear that only Zelda was concerned about her current state.

Zelda took her face in her hands instinctively, assessed the damage and found that the wound on her lip was fresh. “What in hell’s name have you gotten into now?” Zelda masked her concern with annoyance. It was her way.

“It’s nothing, Zelda.” Lilith tried to bat her away.

“It’s certainly not nothing.” Zelda insisted, moving to collect supplies, forcing Lilith to sit in the plush round chair before her desk. She knelt before her, poured a clear solution onto a cloth and then held it against her forehead, incanting the only healing spell she knew.

“It’s no use.” Lilith allowed Zelda to care for her, but looked bored by it all. Her eyes flashed to the fireplace, noticing the boy with his book. “What sort of school are you running here?” She quipped.

Zelda removed the cloth but found that the cuts ran deep, had been made by a magic stronger than she was capable of healing. Lilith looked down upon her, one clear blue eye, the other muddied by redness. But she was smiling down at Zelda. She reached out and smoothed the wrinkles out of Zelda’s forehead.

“He’s learning about the strength of women because he lacks a general respect for them. It seems the previous administration was ripe with allowing this kind of behavior.”

“Well, Faustus certainly lacked a great deal of respect for women, as we both know. It is unfortunate that he is no longer in charge and that the school is now in much more capable hands.” Lilith theatrically announced for Nathaniel’s benefit, taking Zelda’s hands into her own. She pressed a reverent kiss to the palm of her left hand. Zelda felt her heart speed up. A thrill in knowing that this was inappropriate...

Zelda took her hands away from the demoness and reached for the desk to pull herself up into a standing position. “What happened to you?” She demanded.

Lilith leaned back in the chair, watched Zelda closely as she reached for her cigarettes. She placed one in her holder and lit it up, puffed at it before lighting a second from the cherry of the first, handing the freshly lit one to Lilith. Lilith accepted gratefully, thankfully and inhaled.

“I’d rather not...” Lilith spoke through a fog of smoke, her eyes shifting to the young man in the room.

Zelda snapped her fingers and the boy went deaf.

Lilith grinned devilishly at her. “You know, anyone else would put him out of the room, but you seem to enjoy the audience.”

Zelda shrugged, leaned forward to examine the cuts on Lilith’s visage. They glowed a strange, ethereal color. “Was it Lucifer?”

Lilith pushed her away and stood up. She began to pace the room, taking in all that Zelda had changed. She paused to examine the books on the bookshelf, seeming aggregable to the titles, but pausing before one in particular. Her finger stroked down the spine of it. “Lilith” embossed in golden lettering on the red binding. She laughed to herself. “I wonder what lies are published inside of this.” She plucked it from the shelf, placed the cigarette in the corner of her lips, and thumbed through the pages. Her skimming landed somewhere over halfway through the book, her eyes catching on the title of a chapter. Zelda watched as she examined the page, watched as smoke billowed from her mouth like a steadily smoking chimney in winter. Had Zelda detected a displeased grimace, were those tears in the demoness’ eyes?

“They did not understand me so they demonized me.” She spoke sadly.

Zelda moved to her, took the book from her hands, closed its pages. “They don’t know you.” She placed it back on her shelf. “Perhaps one day we can rewrite what it is they got wrong.”

Lilith considered this and then slid away from the bookshelf. She was being elusive. Zelda caught her and she darted away. She was tiring of the game.

Lilith moved to examine the new desk, her fingers slid over the surface. It seemed to Zelda she was having the same thoughts about what it was Zelda may or may not have done atop the desk’s predecessor.

“Do you miss it?” Lilith’s words confused her at first. The brunette’s hands came to clasp about Zelda’s wrists, holding her a bit roughly as she backed her non-threateningly against the bookcase.

And Zelda understood, swallowed, finding that Lilith’s face so close to her own was distracting. Her philtrum was exquisitely shaped, she wanted to nip at it, to sink her teeth into the deep gash in her lip and suck her holy blood.

“I do.” Lilith whispered, her eyes unabashedly on Zelda’s lips in turn. “I do, and so I go back to him. Because he is what I’ve known. For millennia, you see.”

“You – you…” Zelda breathed, heart picking up speed as she regarded Lilith.

Lilith nodded.

Zelda’s eyes shifted from Lilith to Nathaniel and saw his already wide eyes widened even more, the book in his hands askew. Her eyes dropped, unable to meet Lilith’s when she nodded, conceded, admitted the truth. “I do.”

“I thought so.” Lilith’s broken lip curled upwards. “Yet you hate him, right? You want him to die in the depths of hell and yet…you can’t quite find it in yourself to do that to him.”

Zelda understood. “Only _he_ should be put to death for what he’s done.”

Lilith studied Zelda’s face and Zelda studied Lilith’s broken face in turn. Zelda recognized herself there in the depths of Lilith. It was frightening to be reflected back to herself – how truly ugly it was. This internal want, this internal grotesqueness. The need to be broken, to be harmed and humiliated.

She burned with want, wet between her legs.

Her chest heaved, ash from her untended cigarette floating to the floor, Lilith’s eyes distracting, searching her. It was Zelda who finally closed the gap between them, leaned in, crushed their lips tightly together, knowing that she was hurting Lilith and yet Lilith pressed back with equal fervor. Zelda’s teeth bit down, drew fresh blood, sucked and Lilith gave. Zelda’s breasts strained against Lilith’s chest and yet Lilith held them apart, reverently, mindfully, respectfully.

Lilith released her, moved to take a seat behind Zelda’s new desk. She smoothed her hands over the surface, pulled at her cigarette, relaxed into the tall-backed chair. “I knew you would understand.”

And she did, but it made no sense. They were lost in limbo.

“Only, I don’t know where he is.” Zelda spoke softly as she smoothed a hand over her front – found she was very sensitive - and placed her cigarette between her lips as if needing something more to do with them. She could still taste Lilith’s sweet blood on her lips. 

“I do.”

Nathaniel fell from his chair, wreathed on the floor. Neither the High Priestess nor Deity paid him any heed.


	25. Chapter 25

The fire blazed in the fireplace before her blurry, distracted gaze. It was useless to feel this way, for she couldn’t even drown herself in some nice, aged whiskey. She could practically feel the burn of it in her throat, the phantom amber liquid.

And no one had forbidden her from it, it was only that ever since she’d returned from _that place_ she hadn’t touched the stuff. But now she longed for it.

She felt a hand fall on her shoulder, wiped quickly, furtively at her eye, realizing she had been teary-eyed. Damn this metamorphosis. Damn Lilith.

She wished she hadn’t brought it up at all there in the office. It felt like a temptation, an invitation to wander down the path of self-harm again.

“...hmm, Zelds?”

She only caught the end of whatever it was that Hilda had been saying. “What?”

Hilda sighed, massaged her hand into Zelda’s shoulder. Zelda’s muscles relaxed beneath her touch, a release. She covered Hilda’s hand with her own.

“What happened today at the Academy? You’ve hardly spoken a word since you got home.”

“Nothing....happened.” Zelda squeezed Hilda’s hand and then reached for her cigarettes. The one bad habit she could still bear.

“I brought you some cider. Not too sweet, just the way you like it.” Hilda handed her the mug and took her seat beside Zelda. Waiting.

Zelda lit the cigarette, exhaled. Coughed. Pulled ash from her tongue. “Lilith appeared to me.”

“Ah.” Hilda suddenly understood.

But yet she didn’t...couldn’t fully understand. Not really. Her sister, she was convinced, was incapable of comprehending what it was that had transpired between herself and Lilith.

Zelda felt a strong longing, a desire to have Lilith there with her in that instant. But she had vanished again. When would Lilith’s war with Lucifer be ended?

There was a dull ache humming between Zelda’s thighs. Pulsating like the dull hum that had pulsed in that _other world_.

Her nipples stood at attention in the warm room.

Hilda took notice of this.

“How is it, sister, that you’re always so good? To me. To Sabrina, Ambrose, Mary...everyone.” Zelda pressed the unspoken button between them. Igniting, sparking.

“I-I’m not.” Hilda stammered.

“When I’ve hurt you...when I have abused you, and sweet Satan, Hilda, I know what I am guilty of, what my sins are against you... And yet you’re always so good to me.”

“Zelda, you needn’t...” Hilda swallowed.

“I have hurt you. I have wrecked you.”

“Zelda, you didn’t do anything that I wouldn’t have wanted.”

Zelda’s breathing caught in her throat. She tried to mask it with another pull of her cigarette. “Yet, you show love.”

Hilda frowned at her sister; curious, confused.

“You mask it all up behind a cloud of caring and bubbly detachment. You hide behind this air of nicety. Don’t you want to lash out? To bend the world to your will? To break me?” Zelda’s voice had gone raspy.

Hilda shook her head. “Oh, lamb.”

But Zelda didn’t feel the pet name befitting of what she really was. She was a wolf. Had always been, would never be so docile as all that. “I wish you’d get mad one of these days. I wish you’d...”

Hilda was before her, clasping her hand about Zelda’s throat. Squeezing. “It’s what you’d want, isn’t it, Zelds?”

Zelda’s eyes watered at Hilda’s surprising strength. Though she should not second guess the strength of those hands that tended her garden and kneaded dough with grace and ease.

Hilda had practically pulled her choking and spluttering from her chair before she released her. “But it’s not what you deserve and never has been.”

Zelda fell back, breathless, hand rubbing at her throat, then leaning forward to put out her cigarette because she could no more breathe properly.

And Hilda knelt before her. “Oh dear, I don’t know my own strength.”

Zelda rubbed at her neck and shook her head. “No.” She rasped out. “You are not to be doubted, Hilda.” She coughed, her breathing returning to normal, Hilda keeping the bruising, the marks from coming. Ashamed. “Oh, Satan in hell, Hildegard. Take what you want.”

Hilda sputtered, looked Zelda in the eyes. “Not like this.” Hilda sat back on her heels, looked up at Zelda. Zelda felt her eyes-widened, her body alive, taut like the strings of a guitar, capable of snapping at any moment.

“Hilda,” a tear slid down Zelda’s cheek. An apology.

And Hilda understood. Hilda did what only Hilda could do.

Zelda leaned forward, foreheads colliding at first, eyes meeting close, seeing. Their breathing was uneven, chests rising and falling. Hilda’s hand moved to brace the back of Zelda’s neck, stroking the base of her skull with her thumb, stimulating her spine from top to bottom.

“Zelds…”

“I’m not fragile.” Zelda snapped beneath her breath.

And their lips melted together and it felt like a homecoming, a forgiveness, a reconciliation. And Zelda wanted to run because her sister was good and kind and she had taken too much. She had walked all over her and now she was asking for more.

But Hilda gave to her. Gave her more than she asked and the energy shifted, warmed Zelda.

“Oh, Zelds.” Hilda breathed, pressing her back into her chair and Zelda fell open prettily, biting one of her fingers between her teeth as if she needed to keep her mouth occupied. Hilda regarded her, let her strong hands rest on Zelda’s thighs and Zelda knew that she could smell her desire. She was there between her legs. “You’re so beautiful, Zelda.” Hilda whispered. “Pretty as a picture.”

Zelda flushed, felt childishly young again, remembering another lifetime in Hilda’s presence. “Can we play?” Zelda asked bashfully.

Hilda licked her bottom lip and nodded, reaching up to brush Zelda’s hair behind her shoulder, away from her silky nightgown, and then her fingers met skin, pushing back the robe to reveal a barren shoulder, a flimsy nightgown strap. Zelda sat up to discard the robe from her torso, to clasp Hilda’s face in her hands, to pepper her with kisses. “You’re the true beauty, Hildegard.” And as she kissed her, Zelda’s fingers made quick work of Hilda’s cardigan and the buttons on her dress so that she could slide her hand into her well-constructed bra and disrupt a breast from its place, to play over the nipple with her fingers.

Hilda’s eyes were ablaze. “Zelda…”

Zelda’s lips nipped at Hilda and Hilda sat up on her knees so that she could palm Zelda’s smaller breasts in return, her ample fingers running over Zelda’s fully erect nipples and Zelda thrust her chest forward and Hilda’s mouth lowered to worship the taut left nipple, to suckle it through the silky material of her nightie.

A gasp escaped from Zelda’s lips, a delighted release as she wrapped her arms about Hilda, pulling her closer. “I torture you and yet you worship me.”

Hilda bit her nipple, hard enough to elicit pain. “You were tortured so I give you what you need.” Hilda corrected.

“I…need you, Hildie.” Zelda’s fingers twirled into blonde hair, her body pulled closer to her sister.

The doorbell rang.

“Who the devil is that?” Zelda gasped, groaned, covered her wet nipple with her fingers, rubbed at it for Hilda had sat back distracted, flushed, fumbling with her dress front and cardigan.

“I…I tried to tell you, before, Zelds. I invited Mary. To-to come here. To-tonight.”

“You…what?” Zelda’s fury returned.

“I-I told you when you got home that Mary was coming over. She’s been out of sorts and I thought it would be better for her to come over here instead of, you know…going to a bar…so I invited her for dessert. She didn’t want to intrude upon dinner.” Hilda spoke as she righted herself and moved towards the front door with girlish glee.

Zelda groaned and collected herself enough to pull her robe back on. “This isn’t finished.”

Hilda chuckled nervously, on-edge, “I won’t forget.”

Zelda relit her half-burned cigarette, pressing her legs together, exhaling a great frustrated sigh into the room.

There was suddenly Mary’s voice at the door. Some pleasantries exchanged, a compliment of how Hilda looked – so glow-y and beaming. Zelda laughed to herself.

The voices came closer until Hilda was escorting Mary to take a seat in the living room, across from Zelda. Zelda put the cigarette between her lips and regarded Mary. Mary, Mary, Mary who looked ever so much like Lilith. Zelda’s skin crawled. The demoness had left her wanting, hungry.

Mary smiled politely at Zelda when Hilda left the room to get the tea and cakes she’d made.

“You look well.” Mary primly spoke.

It was the glasses that separated her from Lilith. It was the lack of red lips, the tightly wound up hair. If Zelda focused on that she could forget that this was not, in fact Lilith. That she had not, in fact, kissed _this _woman that day. But Mary’s lips were formed the same way. “As do you.” Zelda crossed her legs.

Hilda returned with a tray, disrupting their strange stare-off with one another.

Mary accepted the tea but seemed to read the tension lingering in the room. She looked quite off-put by this. “I hope…I hope I haven’t intruded upon your evening.”

_She had_.

“Not at all, love.” Hilda smiled and shook her head, bending down right before Zelda to pour a cup of tea for Mary and Zelda knew that Hilda knew just what she was doing. The minx.

Zelda watched her sister, attentively. She felt Mary watching her sister, attentively. She liked when people saw her sister. So many became fascinated by her and Hilda was often overlooked, but Mary was a keen observer of people and had a good eye for the little details. Zelda appreciated this about her.

Hilda sat beside Mary on the couch, took her hand and spoke to her of what it was she needed to speak about. Zelda was transfixed by this exchange.

Curiosity piqued further when Mary, whom had been appreciating the curve of Hilda’s breasts privately, had happened a glance in Zelda’s direction and their eyes collided. And for a second she looked as if she were mortified to have been caught staring at Hilda in such a way. It was not until Zelda’s lips turned up at the corners that Mary’s uneasiness dissipated.

Zelda made a production of yawning.

Hilda looked at her.

“As lovely as the evening has been, perhaps it is time for me to retire. You see, it’s been a hellish day. Please forgive me.” Zelda announced grandly, leaning forward to crush out her cigarette.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to keep you up. I should…I should go?” Mary moved to stand.

“Nonsense.” Zelda stood and moved to her. “You look very comfortable with Hilda and I’m sure you have much to discuss. Please don’t leave on my account.” She placed her hands on Mary’s shoulders to push her back on the couch, meeting her curious, crystalline blue eyes – momentarily forgetting (despite the glasses) that this was Mary and not Lilith. And when their lips pressed together in a parting kiss it at first felt natural until Zelda realized that kissing Mary was not something that she had done before and Mary startled, blushed when they parted.

Zelda realized her error, but chose to not acknowledge it. Instead she righted herself and clasped Hilda’s cheek, stroked her thumb over it. “This one here will have you on the mend in no time, isn’t that right, Hilda?” Zelda spoke to Mary without taking her eyes from Hilda’s somewhat befuddled expression.

Their eyes conversed. _Are you doing this on purpose? Are you taking pleasure in being demonstrative? She’s a mortal. She seems to sense…_

“Good night, _love_.” Zelda lingered on the word, rolled it about in her mouth for emphasis and then lifted Hilda’s chin to lean down and press their lips together. She could feel Mary watching them quizzically. She missed nothing.

Zelda’s exit left behind a stunned silence.

Floating up the stairs to her bed she felt more herself than she had in some time. And this _self_ was not who she had been only days before. This self was different. This self was something new entirely and yet she was not afraid of it. She was, in fact, becoming quite fond of this self. 

So that when she did slide between the cool sheets of her bed that evening and let her hand play over her roused center, she envisioned Lilith there with her, guiding her hand in her own, pressing kisses to her neck, her jaw, her lips. It felt, with her eyes closed, almost real. Almost as if the demoness were with her, as if she could very well feel her skin against her own, their bodies pressing together in ecstasy and she groaned, shifted.

And then she felt him there with her. Only it was different. The way in which he regarded her, seemed to regard her with Lilith and in her mind, she watched as he leaned over Zelda and took Lilith’s lips with his own, caressed Lilith’s bare backside teasingly. Zelda felt her hips buck upwards so that he turned to look at her. And his lips felt feathery light against her own, teasing, tempting and then Lilith was guiding him inside of Zelda, Lilith taking Zelda’s lips for herself while he moved atop Zelda, moving in slow, measured rhythms. His release coincided with Zelda’s. Zelda falling over the edge, clasping for dark hair, for the feel of Lilith, a flash of that serene room – so ethereal and pure. She felt her body landing in those shimmering, healing waters, a flash of the night sky above her.

And yet when she fell back down to earth again she landed against her pillow, her eyes coming open, nearly expecting to find them both there with her…but there was only darkness surrounding her.

It had felt so real and yet…

She pulled her damp hand from beneath the sheets, looked about her. The room was empty.

There was the echo of _her_ voice that reverberated through her mind.

_“When you’re ready…I’ll take you there.” _


	26. Chapter 26

She dreamt of the baby in her arms.

The fresh smell of Letty, the baby’s gentle coo, the way she’d wrap her little fingers about Zelda’s finger and squeeze ever so slightly. She dreamt that the baby’s hand reached for her, grazed her chest, clawed at her breasts. And Zelda held the child to her instinctively, as if she’d done it a million times before, allowed her to suckle a swollen nipple. And in her dream she produced milk, a spring of white liquid that nourished the girl. She suckled roughly, teeth bearing down on tender flesh, lips strong and wanting.

Zelda awoke with a start in the cool, calm, silent morning - her nipples sore and taut against the silk of her nightgown. Her arms ached, bereft of the weight of the baby girl.

And what had she done to herself?

She groaned, slid a hand over her breast to find it tender and throbbing.

Letty. She would no more be a newborn. She would be older now. The days had slipped by too quickly.

And Zelda had chosen to forget instead of remember.

Only the dream had been too vivid, too real. So she could not forget.

Someone lit a cigarette. The flame startled Zelda, she jumped up in her bed.

“Glad to see you’re awake.” Lilith’s voice was low, tired.

“H-how long have you...” Zelda’s eyes focused upon the demoness curled up in the chair by the window. The room was still tinged with the darkness of dusk. She could scarcely make out Lilith’s features.

“The girl is okay.” Lilith spoke matter-of-factly. “If you were worried.”

Zelda’s mind raced, forgetting what it was Lilith was referring to for the moment, thrown off by this early morning visit as she was. Her hand dragged through her wrecked curls. She was not put together at all, though in the rising sunlight she found that Lilith was even worse for the wear than she. “Lilith.” Zelda breathed, reached for her reading glasses as she slid from her bed, moved to Lilith.

The glasses only amplified the horrific scene before her. It was no more a simple gash. It was paint peeling from a car, skin cut and bruised, her lip badly damaged, she winced as she smoked.

Zelda’s hand went to her mouth, appalled. “What the heavens has happened to you?” Zelda reached out to touch the demoness but then recoiled, afraid.

Lilith bent into herself, not an ounce of emotion upon her blank face. “He looks worse.”

Zelda felt frustrating, fresh tears spring to her eyes as she knelt before Lilith. It was the morning playing tricks on her.

“Oh, now. I’ve been alive for millennia. You can’t possibly expect me to look as gorgeous as that Wardwell. Well, if she’d let herself come undone just a bit, she’d be quite fetching. And you would agree, wouldn’t you?” Lilith reached out and trailed her fingers through Zelda’s hair, tugging lightly at a knot until her fingers were free again. She cupped Zelda’s cheek, wiped a finger over her watery skin.

“Lilith.” Zelda whispered.

“She’s quite taken with you, that Wardwell.”

“No, she’s taken by Hilda and we needn’t confuse her any more than that.” Zelda reached for Lilith, attempting to heal what she could, but to no avail.

“I don’t think she’s confused. Not by your overt performances with your _sister_.” Lilith captured Zelda’s hand in her own, held it against her chest. Above her pulsating heart. There was something hypnotic, soothing about the beating of her heart that calmed Zelda.

“She _is_ my sister. Gregory, my brother, was an old invention to...” Zelda spoke, hypnotically.

“Yes, I know.” Lilith whispered.

“I love her.” Zelda’s voice went high-pitched for a moment, innocent, pure. The word foreign on her tongue.

Lilith smiled. “I know, darling.”

“It’s wrong.” Zelda’s face contorted.

Lilith shook her head. “She loves you very much.”

“And so, I want her to have Mary.” Zelda inhaled and exhaled slowly, in rhythm with Lilith.

“Mary is taken by the both of you.” Lilith cradled Zelda’s cheek.

“Lilith.” Zelda pulled her hand away from Lilith’s chest and sat back. “You’re deflecting again.”

Lilith chuckled, held the cigarette for Zelda to take a puff, stroked her hair. “I like you in the mornings. Gorgeous. These glasses are doing something to me.”

Zelda blew smoke to the ceiling, “You look like shit.”

Lilith laughed and laughed until Zelda covered her lips with her own. The kiss exploded, flowered, strong forces mingled between them. Light and dark, a chiaroscuro of emotions flowed freely. Zelda willed her kisses to heal Lilith, to evoke a truth in what it was that was happening to her. Her legs rose from the floor, straddling Lilith, pinning her to the chair. And Lilith’s fingers tangled in Zelda’s hair, lips parting for her to crush out the cigarette and then she was drawing Zelda closer to her in the smoky, hazy air of the morning.

Zelda held Lilith’s head in her hands and moved her lips to cover the metallic tasting cuts, licking at her, rocking against her. Wanting, needing. She took Lilith’s hand in her own, spreading herself wider, guiding willing fingers to her wetness.

She gasped upon the first touch, the first stroke. Lilith tested, Zelda shifted, looked down into blue eyes that sought acquiescence. Zelda’s head moved up and down as she wrapped herself tighter about Lilith, crushing their lips together, her body shifting upwards and then Lilith was touching her again.

Zelda hummed, let her head fall back, Lilith’s cut lips at her neck. “Oh, Lilith.”

It was refreshing, it was cleansing, healing what Lilith’s hands were capable of. Lilith’s, Mary’s hands. Would Mary have the same hands?

“Oh.” Lilith slid inside of her tenderly, lips covering her swollen nipple through the cover of her silk nightgown, cognizant of her dream and the tenderness of the breast. Zelda pulled Lilith’s head closer, needing.

She shifted, her legs shaking, trembling as she sat herself atop Lilith, again and again. It was Lilith’s thumb against her, rubbing, that led her ever closer to the edge. So very close. So very near and there was a fear that clasped at her, ripped uncomfortably through her chest. Pulled her away from going over. She clutched at Lilith.

And she felt a ray of sunlight fall across her face. Dawn fast approaching.

The jiggle of a doorknob, the clatter of porcelain. A gasp, “oh my. Oh, dear me, oh…”

But neither Lilith nor Zelda seemed off-put by the interruption. Lilith’s hand came to rest against Zelda, giving her soothing contact as she turned to the other Spellman sister in the doorway who was closing her eyes and then opening them and then about to run until Lilith spoke firmly. “Come in here and close the door, Hilda. Put that tray down on the table.”

And Hilda did as she was told, Zelda’s skin warming at the idea of her sister seeing her in such a state.

“Come here.” Lilith purred to Hilda.

Zelda was too far gone to speak, but could feel the warmth of her sister very near to her. She turned her head ever so slightly, meeting Hilda’s widened, dilatated eyes.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Lilith whispered, running a hand down Zelda’s cheek, stroking her like a prized pony.

Hilda nodded. “Y-yes. Pr-pretty as a p-picture. Like I always…” she swallowed. “Say.”

“Give your pretty sister a pretty kiss.” Lilith calmly instructed, reaching to touch Hilda’s hip.

And Zelda turned her head to allow for her sister to cup her cheek. She felt her hand trembling against her skin. Performance had never been her strong suit, though Zelda knew that the presence of their Deity in the mix was certainly not helping to make her calm. Zelda wanted to assure Hilda that it was okay, wanted her to know that she needn’t be afraid. And the thought seemed to pass to her sister when their lips touched.

Lilith’s hand renewed its motions and Zelda gasped against Hilda’s lips.

“It’s alright, Zelds. We’re here.” Hilda whispered, knowing.

Zelda’s eyes slid closed as Hilda came behind her, wrapped her arms about her center and kissed her neck, held the breast that Lilith’s lips did not then occupy, let her hand move down to cover the space that Lilith could not, and it took only a bit more coaxing before Zelda was trembling all over, gasping and sputtering incoherently, falling forward over Lilith, who held her, allowed Hilda to rub circles over her back. Her muscles loosened, a release overtook her.

They helped her back to the bed, each sitting on either side of her. Hilda removed her glasses, and Zelda caught her hand, held her close so that she could kiss her properly.

Lilith watched on, rubbing a soothing hand over Zelda’s thigh.

And, to her astonishment, when Zelda looked up to her she found that her face had somehow returned to normal. Not a scratch at all. Lilith winked.

“I brought you some tea, love. Sabrina and Ambrose will be awake soon.” Hilda smoothed Zelda’s hair from her cheeks.

She nodded, still taken by Lilith’s nearly glowing visage. Had she...

“I thought that, perhaps, we might invite Mary over for dinner.” Hilda bashfully inquired.

Mary. “Yes. Yes, I think we should.” Zelda nodded, sitting up to take her tea.

Hilda followed Zelda’s line of vision to Lilith. She looked a bit frightened by the woman, uncertain of how to be in her presence. Lilith turned to Hilda and reached out to curl her fingers over Hilda’s cheek. “You were positively radiant this morning. You’re a very good sister.” Lilith complimented her and Zelda watched as her sister blushed beneath Lilith’s attention.

The things that happened in the early morning hours, in the dark. Hidden away from the light of the sun. They lived as creatures of the night.

Lilith sought out Hilda’s eyes. An agreement was reached, pact made. Lilith’s lips met with Hilda’s. Chaste, beautiful. Zelda’s heart swelled, she reached to touch her sister’s knee. Hilda flushed, mumbled and stood from the bed. “I’ll just – uh, I’ll be…breakfast.”

Zelda chuckled, watched as her sister moved to the bedroom door, paused to turn back to look at Lilith and then smile and then leave.

“She’s adorable, isn’t she?” Lilith flopped down on the bed beside Zelda, curling into her side.

Zelda turned to her, cupped her cheek and studied her face. “What happened to the marks?”

Lilith shrugged and reached over Zelda to take the cup from her and sip it, to take a biscuit from the tray and place it in her mouth. She licked her fingers clean, fingers that had only recently been inside of Zelda. Zelda inhaled sharply.

“You’re the only one who can _see _me, Zelda.”

Zelda’s brow furrowed. “You mean…” And Zelda slowly watched as the cuts returned to the pretty face. It was a melting, a sped-up advancement of age, of wear and tear. “Oh.”

“I should end him, I know I should. I could at this point.” Lilith sat up slightly to sip the tea and then she draped herself over Zelda, pressed a little broken kiss to the corner of her lips. “He’s significantly weakened. Only…”

“You don’t know what will happen.” Zelda whispered, cupped Lilith’s cheek in her hand, let her fingers trace over the scars.

“He’s been the puppeteer for far too long. The world goes on in his absence, but if I were to…”

“You’re real to me, Lilith.” Zelda held her more firmly. “Frankly, you’re stronger than he is.”

Lilith sighed. “It’s not so simple though, is it?”

Zelda took a deep breath. “No, it never is.”

Lilith picked up the tea cup and sipped its contents, held it out for Zelda to taste. Zelda’s eyes bore into blues as she sipped her sister’s life-giving, youthful remedy. Lilith’s skin seemed to glow brighter, warmed. 

“For millennia men have been in charge, written the words, created the reality but it’s slowly coming apart at the seams. And I’m not sure which way is the right way forward. They have so much pride, such a sense of entitlement. I hate the idea that death is the only way to effect change.” Lilith spoke candidly, curled into Zelda’s side. “But if we don’t end it…they may not take us seriously as the leaders that we are. They would undermine us as they have since the beginning of time.”

“As you were undermined in Eden.” Zelda realized.

“Lucifer was not the only fallen angel.”

They sat in silence, Zelda stroking Lilith’s unruly mass of hair. Or was it really Mary’s unruly mass of hair?

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Lilith laughed to herself. “Our darling Mary was engaged to marry an Adam.”

“It’s funny to think you were married to the first man.”

“Adam, the original one, was not keen on the fact that I knew more of the world than he did.” Lilith’s breath was warm against Zelda’s breast. “At least Mary’s Adam was kind and appreciated her for her intellect.”

“It’s a shame Lucifer killed him.”

“Lucifer is possessive.” Lilith fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “But he did worship my knowledge. I thought – for years, I thought he appreciated the things I knew that he did not. But I realize he only ever used me to his betterment.”

Zelda’s fingers scratched down Lilith’s back, knowing. “I thought I could rebuild the church alongside Faustus. I thought he…I thought we understood one another.” She laughed pathetically.

Lilith sat up and looked down at Zelda. “You know that neither of them is sitting around harmed by either of us.”

“And that’s the real twist of the knife, isn’t it?” Zelda watched as a glow returned to Lilith’s eyes in the early morning sunlight that now flowed through the windows freely.

“We shall exact our revenge. In due time. In due time, my darling.” Lilith smiled, her face swimming back to health as she bowed her head to capture Zelda’s lips in her own, as she lazily made love to her again with no fear and this time Zelda’s fingers curled inside of Lilith and one came before the other as the sounds and smells of morning sprung up around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess it was a prolific kind of weekend. :) 
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who is still reading. I see you, even if you don't comment. It's okay! I get it, this is a weirdo fic. I guess you just have to go with it.


	27. Chapter 27

She arrived home later than expected.

Naturally, something had kept her at the Academy – some inane squabble with Sisters Klein and Musgrove. A girl had been harmed in a spellcasting class, a demon had somehow been conjured and set loose. Anything and everything that could possibly go wrong had gone. And then there was the matter of knowing Faustus’ whereabouts that kept swimming through her mind. Letty would be with him.

She longed to have Letty in her arms again.

Right behind her eyes was a pressure, a pain that threatened to turn into some kind of migraine.

And it was only the thought of the release that she had had that morning that kept her moving forward – forward towards home.

To Hilda.

And would Lilith come to her again? She wasn’t certain she wanted to wait another week, another two weeks for the demoness to materialize again.

She felt helpless to summon her though.

_They – _the church - evoked her, worshiped her, appealed to her to guide them.

And Zelda found it almost inhumane to put the woman on a pedestal as they were doing. Nearly as insane as naming the church after the baby Judas. Now there was a push to make it the Church of Lilith – to create a feminine bend to the narrative of the suddenly evolving entity.

There had been stasis for so long. And now the rules were changing.

Zelda secretly longed to burn the whole thing down.

This impulse came from somewhere unknown for she had been so unholily pious her entire life. Willing to submit to anything the Dark Lord commanded – but as she watched it all crumble - the truths, the lies, the realities surface – a part of her questioned the very foundations of the church itself.

Certainly, there was need to have protections placed around witches – for they were a very rare breed, a rare species that was often misunderstood by the outside world.

But something was shifting inside of Zelda, making her question it all. She needed to reread her brother’s manifesto.

She stepped into the mortuary and hung her coat up, kicked off her heels, rummaged about in her bag for her cigarettes and holder. Her mind was busy cycling through moments of clarity and moments of doubt about letting go of what she had known, of what she knew needed to happen…

She smelled some heavenly crafted roast wafting from the kitchen. Thyme, rosemary, garlic – Hilda had prepared a feast. But whatever for? There was the low chatter of voices coming from the other room. What was happening?

Zelda rounded the corner to the kitchen, “I’m so sorry I’m la…” She paused, coming to find that both Mary _and_ Lilith were seated at the enlarged kitchen table amongst its normal inhabitants.

She had forgotten.

“Oh, love. We were starting to get worried.” Hilda was on her feet, apologetically dropping her fork against her plate.

“No need to apologize for starting without me.” Zelda sighed, lighted her cigarette. Found that she had been relegated to sit beside Lilith. Lilith who smiled at her coyly as she moved to take her seat, patting her sister’s hand to sit back down as she did so.

“You look tired.” Lilith observed, let her hand fall briefly over Zelda’s wrist where it rested atop the table.

Zelda exhaled a cloud of smoke, reveled in the feel of Lilith’s fingers against her skin, felt herself warming ever so slightly – the headache receding into the background.

“A long, interesting day at the Academy.” Zelda offered by way of explanation and then glanced up to find Mary’s eyes on her. Watching the interaction of her other-self and Zelda. There was an unreadable gleam in her eyes, an embarrassed flush when she was caught out by meeting Zelda’s glance. They regarded one another curiously. “I’m glad you’re here, Mary.” Zelda deferred, an attempt to ease her embarrassment, lightly twisted her wrist away from Lilith’s hand. “I suppose you have equally long and interesting days as the principal of Baxter High.”

Mary bowed her head, wiped at her lips. “As a matter of fact, I do. If it’s not one thing it’s another. Just the other day our history teacher, Mrs. Churchill, got into some spout about a book that our English teacher, Ms. Kinsey, was having her pupils read and…” her cheeks colored. She faltered momentarily. “It’s a silly story.”

“No,” Zelda shook her head as she platted some roasted vegetables. “I understand the ridiculousness of these futile spats.”

The conversation which had been flowing freely before Zelda’s arrival recovered from her interruption and soon flowed freely again. Though Zelda could sense that her presence somehow upset the balance. There was a sense of relief at her arrival and yet a nervousness settled amongst the elders of the table. Something nearly unpalpable, but it was there.

She almost got the sense that they might find her delicate somehow, that they should guard themselves around her and she detested the idea of being protected from anything.

There had been the morning and what she had allowed and reveled in and enjoyed. And then there was the pure and chaste Mary Wardwell with her uncertain, wide, blue eyes. Looking. Her eyes were upon Zelda at times and then at others taken by Hilda and some endearingly adorable story she was telling. Occasionally she ventured a glance at Lilith, still mesmerized by her twin.

Sabrina, seated near to Mary, seemed taken by the teacher and her burgeoning presence in their home. Zelda watched as the girl captivated and entranced Mary.

Mary who was a bit frigid and held together still, but by the time they retired to the sitting room, her body had loosened and she took to sitting next to Lilith atop the couch, Zelda across from them, Sabrina trotting off to be with friends, Ambrose to Dorian Grey’s.

Hilda brought in after dinner tea and cakes and took her seat beside Zelda.

“What is it you think of us, Mary?” Lilith ventured to ask as she sipped her tea indelicately, almost as she had that morning. Zelda’s body responded to her lips against the tea cup.

“What do you mean?” Mary’s cheeks delicately colored again, like the tantalizing flower that she was.

“Well you’ve been drawn into this world of witchcraft nearly against your will and now you seem to fit into it all so…perfectly.” Lilith spoke slyly, as if she might be hinting at more than just this simple question.

Mary whisked an invisible strand of hair from her face and looked at the coffee table in the middle of the room. “I have studied the occult since I was a child, I…I was kind of rather relieved when you confirmed my suspicions. I was beginning to feel a bit crazy, to tell you the truth.”

“Not crazy at all.” Zelda confirmed, blowing across the top of her tea. “It’s only we must operate in secret for our own protection. There are forces in the mortal world that would rather have us dead.”

“I am aware. It’s not surprising, with the amount of violence that comes from this Satanic religion. My own near-death included.”

Zelda bowed her head, feeling a rush of uncharacteristic remorse. “It was not always so – of course there are grotesque elements to certain rituals and rites. Though all other religions have citations of such violence, sacrifices, wars.”

“Naturally. Violence occurs every day in the _mortal_ world as well.” Mary agreed, her hand errantly running over her neck, as if she remembered the very moment her life ended and Lilith’s began.

But now they were double. Each as beautiful as the other in their own ways.

Lilith was looking at Mary. “You are drawn to the dark, the occult, though.” It was more a statement than a question.

Mary adjusted her glasses.

“You needn’t interrogate her.” Hilda jumped to her defense.

Mary smiled shyly at Hilda. “No…no, it’s quite alright. Yes, in many ways I felt called to study the history of witches. I’ve lived in Greendale all my life. I had a strange encounter in the woods, when I was a child.” She paused to recall this occurrence, some shadows, a young girl stumbling across a ritual perhaps. She cleared her throat. “I heard lore of witch hunters in my own family. I suspect my father was a witch hunter. My parents were devoutly Catholic, you see.”

“That would explain the cross.” Lilith smiled.

“You had quite the elaborate story about that cross.” Zelda admonished Lilith, reminded of their first rows with one another in Mary’s cottage. Zelda should have known then that the upside-down cross was not characteristic of Mary Wardwell.

Mary was looking between the two women, her face pink. “You…” but her voice faltered.

Ah, there was something Lilith had not told Mary.

Though instead of upset she looked rather surprised. Zelda watched as it all played out on her face, the imagery that the thought provoked. There was a flush that came to Mary, as if she had not reddened enough that evening. And here Lilith placed a hand on Mary’s thigh. Lightly, carefully. “It seems that when I had control of your body some things…may have…happened.”

“I see that.” Mary sniffed, stiffened ever so slightly. Looked at Zelda who glanced down at her tea.

Hilda sat up attentively, protectively. “It wasn’t right of you.” Her eyes fixed on Lilith.

“Of me?” Lilith spoke indignantly, laughed. “I did what was willed of me…I had a mission and Mary was Lucifer’s intended target, I…I couldn’t just have…”

“Well, you could have. It’s always a choice we have.” Zelda broke in, admonishing the demoness. Admonishing herself in the same breath.

“A choice against the Dark Lord?” Lilith sprang to her feet, livid. Pacing. “You think, darling Zelda, that I could simply say no and escape with my life?” Here she laughed but there was no mirth in it. “He _owned_ me. He led me. It was his will over mine. I couldn’t have simply…I couldn’t…” She choked on a sob, fell before the blazing fireplace, stared at the flames. Mute. Her head fell forward.

Zelda’s heart clinched at this prostration. Lilith’s vulnerability was demonstrative and yet Zelda instinctively knew that she was only grasping at the meaning of what it was she had done.

“I…I did it.” Lilith whispered.

Zelda stood, recognizing the humanity the was clutching at Lilith. Perhaps something she had never before had to face – something that maybe Mary’s body and mind had given her that had not been there before. A conscious.

Zelda melted to the floor beside Lilith, putting her arms about her. But Lilith pushed her away and then Zelda realized that Lilith’s doppelgänger had joined her at Lilith’s side, that Mary took Lilith’s face in her hands, was forcing her to look at her.

“If I have come to know anything,” Mary’s voice was even, strong. “It is that Lucifer has used you for years as his lackey. His slave, his servant. You have known nothing more than being used so you use and take in return. Do you see? You don’t know what it is to be seen as an equal and maybe…maybe Zelda offered that to you. So…if you had that experience while inside of me then…It’s not so bad, you see?”

Lilith fought to look away, embarrassed of her tears. She shook her head at Mary’s wise words. “You don’t know…you don’t know what I’ve done. And it was all my choice. Just like Zelda said. It was me. _I_ did it.” Lilith insisted.

Mary shook her head, reached to calm Lilith, to cup her face in her hands and hold her so that their mirrored eyes were facing one another. “It was all you knew. What is in the past is in the past. You brought me back as an act of redemption. You have good inside of you.”

Zelda placed a hand on Lilith’s back. “I didn’t mean to accuse you. You showed me such beauty when I was in pain. You are capable of more than what Lucifer put you through. I have seen it, Lilith.”

Lilith’s shoulders heaved, Mary wiping at her tear stained cheeks.

“It’s hard to for-forgive myself.” Lilith sputtered.

Mary leaned forward and pressed her lips reverently against Lilith’s forehead and for a moment the demoness stilled beneath her touch. “I forgive you.” Mary pressed a kiss to her temple. Zelda saw that there were tears in her own eyes.

An absolution.

“You shouldn’t.” Lilith whispered.

“I do.” Mary’s hands shook as if suddenly uncertain again. Mary looked down at Lilith, Lilith’s breathing evened out as she looked back up at Mary. Some unspoken conversation played out, Mary’s thumb swept over Lilith’s lips.

Zelda’s breath caught in her throat as she watched Mary’s head dip to meet Lilith’s lips. Mary giving, Lilith receiving. It seemed holy and unholy, healing and wholesome. And yet burning with a tender desire.

Zelda met Hilda’s gaze, a shock.

Mary sat back and looked to Zelda, Hilda. “I don’t mean to overstep, but I do think I can surmise what is going on around here. It seems that polyamory lives on in the witching world. I could be mistaken, though…”

“You’re not.” Zelda pulled back, crawled a bit to the place where she’d left her cigarettes. She lit one, body on fire in a new and profound way.

“And if it were possible,” Hilda’s nervous voice spoke from the spot on the floor she had crawled to in the midst of the upheaval. “You wouldn’t be opposed to it?”

Mary sat back, pushing up her glasses to wipe at her face, looking at the three eager and emotional and confused women looking back at her. “Frankly, no. I’ve always been pulled to the idea. I just never thought…” She cleared her throat. “I-I’m drawn to each of you. If I may speak candidly.”

“Please.” Zelda laughed, crumpled on the floor as she was, smoking and running soothing circles over Lilith’s back. “Formalities seem pointless now.”

Lilith laughed at this. “It seems only fair, Mary, that you are a part of this as you have been a part of each of us. Some of us against your will.”

Zelda glanced curiously between her sister and Mary. She had certainly missed something, then. But of course, they had already done _something_. She should have seen it. Now she sensed the familiarity in the way Hilda took Mary’s hand in reassurance.

Hilda would have had the purest interaction of all.

There was a strength in Mary Wardwell that defied logic. It was her intellect that allowed her to accept these new pieces of information as fact. She was able to wrap her mind around all that they had presented and she knew of emotions and connections in ways that Zelda had doubted her.

But Mary looked very small and frightened in that moment – as if suddenly deflated.

“Love, we needn’t do anything about this tonight.” It was Hilda’s turn to console. She crawled closer, wiped at her cheeks. “Would you like to stay the evening? It’s late and I hate the thought of you driving home. Alone.”

Mary reluctantly conceded. “If it’s alright…”

“Of course, it’s alright.” Zelda insisted.

“You’re tired lamb, we can hash this out tomorrow morning.” Hilda pressed a kiss to Mary’s cheek and Mary warmed. Her eyes came to rest bashfully on Zelda.

“Yes.” Mary nodded.

Zelda exhaled a cloud of smoke. She sensed something in Mary, was pulled to shift onto her knees, to move towards her. She felt Hilda and Lilith’s eyes on her as she did this. “You’re a wonder.” She came to rest before Mary, cup her cheek. Her lips met Mary’s curious lips for a kiss, something real this time and not pretend or for show. Mary’s lips were soft and warm. For being doubled with Lilith, they kissed so very differently. Lilith had certainly not been Mary.

They parted and Hilda helped Mary up, the pair escaping to Edward’s old room, leaving a crestfallen Lilith in Zelda’s capable hands.

Lilith curled up before the fire, placing her head in Zelda’s lap. Zelda ran her fingers through Lilith’s hair, passed her her cigarette.

“I always knew it was a choice.” Lilith whispered.

“Shh.” Zelda soothed, stared into the fire. Knowing that it was also always her own choice. And she knew what she needed to choose in that moment. “I’m ready to see him.”


	28. Chapter 28

She had once said that she wished to explore all the realms with one person.

A commentary on polygyny in the witching community directed towards one.

Now she found herself being dragged through a warping, twisting mirage of time, space, and dimensions, hot on the heels of Lilith. It was not the romance Zelda had made it out to be in her mind. Her body hurt, contorted and altered as they were.

_He_ would not have stayed still in the present. He would have twisted and thwarted his path so as not to be so easily discovered.

She was weary when her feet met with earth again. A dim alleyway, uneven stones beneath her shoes, the distant clatter of horses’ hooves on pavement. She reached out to steady herself against the stucco wall of the building beside her, feeling queasy, seasick. It had been too long since she had moved through the dimensions so quickly.

A carriage swept past them on the main street, wheels clanging against the pavement.

Lilith placed her hand against Zelda’s back, steadying her. “Are you alright?”

Zelda closed her eyes, incanted a little something Hilda had once taught her. She was no longer the young witch she had been when this dimension had been her true reality. Taking a deep breath, she righted herself, pressing her shoulder against the cool wall at her back. Lilith’s eyes appeared before her, glancing to either side in the dark lighting – hyperaware of their surroundings.

She cupped Zelda’s cheek. 

Zelda inhaled the musky, floral scent of the woman before her, finding solace in her being, in the clarity of her eyes. She nodded, pushed Lilith from her and stood up tall. As she brushed a hand down her front she realized that she had been placed in an elaborate black cloak and her hair was tightly curled. She looked Lilith over, finding that for protection she had dawned a deep crimson cloak. They would fit into this world that Zelda remembered well.

“Take me to him.” Her voice was lower than normal, broke a bit as she spoke.

A carriage appeared out of the blue and in an instant, they were ushered inside by a dashing young man. They were carried through the streets of the town; Lilith eyeing Zelda as Zelda took in the world around them. There was a familiarity to this city. Bits and pieces that Zelda seemed to remember – nights she recalled spent in the arms of men and women alike after civil evenings spent at the opera or in someone’s parlor – drinking, partaking in bacchanal, lustful exercises.

He would have returned to this time in which he fit so well.

The memory of him came to her strong and overwhelming.

She felt Lilith’s fingers lace with her own as if she knew. A surge of energy passed between them – an attempt to comfort.

They arrived at a mansion on a hill, alight with candles blazing in every room. There were the sounds of drunken revelry as Zelda was escorted from the carriage, her heart hammering in her chest. But as they stood before the grandiose front doors, she squared her shoulders, felt comforted by Lilith’s presence at her side.

A butler opened the door – a man of magic who began to question them. But Lilith easily silenced him and led them into the home.

At every twist and turn there was more and more merriment. A room of dancers, a smoking room, rooms of half-undone witches touching, caressing, further was a contortion of whips and chains, masks and espionage. Zelda paused, watched as a whip fell against the curve of a young, blonde witch. Her skin pinkened, tightened, flinched as the end of the leather left her body. Her back arched deliciously; her head fell back as she called out in pain.

Lilith’s hand against her back urged her forwards, up the stairs. A quieter landing – only a few groans and cries emitted forth through the doors as they passed. Zelda swallowed, at once fearful and at another gone on the feeling pulsing about them. Her body remembered.

The door at the end of the hallway was firmly closed. No sound came from inside.

Zelda felt a chill go through her body. Lilith turned to look at her.

Zelda’s eyes stayed glued on the closed door – knowing that she could not go back now. She had come this far. What good would it be if she did not follow through?

She pushed past Lilith and threw open the door.

A fire crackled in the eerily quiet room. An upturned bottle leaked its contents atop a scattered desk, an unmade bed sat empty, and in the corner of the room laid out in a high-back chair was the very man himself. Ruffled shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled, eyes unfocused, unmoved.

“Well, well, well.” He spoke slowly, deliberately. “Zelda Spellman has found me at last.” He downed the rest of his drink, sat it down with a loud thump on an open book. It slid sideways, crashed loudly against the floor. “I suspected it was only a matter of time before you would.”

There was silence as Zelda examined the room about them, in search.

“They are safe.” Faustus read her mind.

“Where are they?” Zelda’s throat was dry.

Faustus smiled. “I see you’ve brought some protection with you. Lilith, always a pleasure.”

“Faustus,” Zelda moved towards him. “Where are the twins?”

“I would think we might have a great deal of other things to discuss, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, like your little act of defiance where you nearly killed all of the coven?”

“I suspect you saved them?”

“Hilda created a remedy. Thankfully, no lives were taken.”

“Then I painted you a hero. You shall be worshipped and heralded for the rest of your days.” Faustus rubbed at his forehead.

“You disgust me.” Zelda spat.

“I might have to disagree.”

Her hands were around his throat in a matter of seconds, pleasingly wrapping her hand about his throat, squeezing. He choked, sputtered, eyes widening in momentary fear.

Lilith’s hand came to rest on her back, and she realized her error. Her hands clenched and unclenched as she loosened her grasp, standing back from Faustus. Zelda took a breath, attempting to control herself.

Faustus rubbed at his throat, a pleasant look not fading from his visage. “They have made you their High Priestess, have they not? You have taken over my post at the Academy. You have the power and prestige you have always longed for.”

“How dare – how dare you make it sound as if you planned it that way.”

“And perhaps I did.” Faustus stared into the fireplace, mesmerized by the flames. It seemed as if he were unmasked, undone. There was defeat etched in his face. The image of him tossing her carelessly against the wall, of pinning her to the bed and forcing himself upon her…it felt like a distant fantasy, a dream. This man before her was docile, tired. “Did you ever think, Zelda, that I reflected back to you yourself?”

“No.” Zelda shook her head. “No.” That would be too ugly, too gruesome to examine. “You…”

“Yes, yes. Everything you’re thinking of me is probably correct.” Faustus knew he was backed into a corner, she sensed he was at least aware of this – knew that with the flick of Lilith’s wrist he would be dead. He did not, however, look too concerned by this. He stayed calm and cool as he placed his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “Since our time at the Academy, Zelda, I have feared you.”

“_Feared_ me?” Zelda laughed at this. “Feared me? Whatever for, Faustus? You had it all, you had the prestige, the cunning, the power between your legs. I had _nothing_.”

“Don’t undersell yourself, Zelda. You had the brains, the knowledge.” Faustus shot back, a flick of his old fire igniting.

“I did not have the opportunities that you had.”

“And I have helped to afford them to you now.”

“How dare you act as if you have handed me this wonderful gift? Everything that we have ever known has come crashing down around us. It’s passé, this title. It’s practically useless to have it, an insult really. You left me to pick up the pieces.”

“And who might be more capable of doing that than you?”

Zelda laughed, frustrated. She longed for a cigarette, but Faustus did not smoke and had none in eye-shot. There were cigars, but they had never done anything for her. So instead she took to balling her hands into fists at her side.

“Do you want to know, Zelda, the reason that Edward did not wish for me to marry you?”

This caught Zelda’s attention. She straightened, turned to face her _husband_. “Why?”

“He knew that you would take the power. There was a prophesy, some knowledge that he had about what was to come. He knew that his daughter would be the herald of a new world and he instinctively knew that you would come to have a seat at the head of it. He knew this would happen when I married you and he wanted to keep me from you until the right moment. Frankly, I think he didn’t want me involved in it at all. I tempted fate marrying you – _I _wanted that power, Zelda. I wanted it.”

Zelda pieced it all together. “You tried to control me so that I would be kept away from my rightful position in order for you to have it?”

Faustus shrugged. “You were too strong.”

“No.” Zelda shook her head, turned her gaze back to Faustus. “You hurt me. You – you…left me in pain, bruised, beaten, taken advantage of. The things you did…we did…they were not permissible. They were…inhumane, abusive...”

“I remember a time when you would beg me…”

“Enough.” Her knees shook, unsteady. “You cannot tell me that I _wanted_ that…that I…”

“Wanted, no.” Faustus stood from his spot on his chair. “Thought you deserved it, perhaps. I only went as far as you allowed me. I stretched the bounds…”

“No. No one should be treated like that.” Zelda snapped, feeling an intense fire burning inside of her. A damn had burst. “Even if I wanted to be ruined…even if I wanted to be broken…”

Faustus smiled as he poured himself a fresh drink, thought to offer it to Zelda. Zelda longed for the alcohol but she shook her head, refusing it, watched as Faustus downed it. He drank as if it might be the last time he would ever drink so he was determined to enjoy it. His eyes stayed trained on Zelda, watching her over the rim of the glass.

She broke their gaze, moved to the fire. Needing to catch her breath, needing to calm herself. She placed a hand on the mantel of the fire place, stared at the shining fire iron.

“Zelda,” she heard Faustus’ voice in her ear then, his body close to hers. She tensed, a shiver raced down her spine. “If I had touched you kindly, what would you have done?”

Zelda wrapped her arms about herself, bracing. She felt Faustus’ fingers, featherlight as they trailed down her arm. Vulnerability, an apology.

She moved away from him, uncomfortable. “Lilith is here.”

“Wasn’t she always?” Faustus did not move. 

Her body was warm from the heat so near to her. She turned to look at Lilith.

“She never saved you. She never intercepted.” Faustus whispered.

Lilith blinked, clasped her hands together.

“Why was that, I wonder?” Zelda could feel Faustus’ gaze upon her. “You didn’t want her to, did you?” His voice was soft.

Zelda turned on him, anger surging through her being. “She tried to save me and I didn’t listen to her. I was too proud…I thought…”

“And you liked when she watched.”

“No…no, I…” Zelda shook her head, cheeks reddening. She closed her eyes, collected herself again. “You’re attempting to place all the blame on me and that’s unfair, Faustus. You cursed me against my will and took me for your pleasure. The torture before I could understand, but to possess me, to rob me of my own free will…that – that was unacceptable.” She moved towards Faustus, finding his expression unreadable. “We could have been something wonderful together and instead you tried to best me by stripping me of my humanity. And for that I cannot forgive you.”

Faustus’ eyes bore into her, his face softening into a kind smile. “I would expect nothing less.”

“You don’t get to act as if you _knew_ it would end this way all along.”

Faustus’ hand fell against the wood of the fireplace. “I didn’t know, Zelda. But the signs were all there. Everything was stacking up against us. The more I cursed you, the worse it became.”

“What would you have done if it had gone further? Hmm? Fucked me to death?”

Faustus reeled at that. “I – no. Of course not. If I had wanted to kill you I would have done it.”

“And yet you didn’t. You punished me…my body. For what?” Zelda demanded.

Faustus smiled sadly, turned away from Zelda to take a seat near the fire.

It took her a moment. Waiting for an answer as she did. Faustus could be a smooth talker when he wanted to be, but his lack of words seemed to tell her more than his words ever could. She shook her head, nodding as if knowing.

“What will you do with me then?” He asked, indifferently.

“You seem to know that you have nowhere to turn now.” Zelda steadied herself, her body flushing from a mix of emotions. “You know that we could end you if we chose to do so and yet you are not running from us.” 

The room fell silent.

A million thoughts flashed through her mind. She felt weak, weaker than she expected to have felt. She had the upper hand, the wherewithal to know that what he had done was unforgiveable and yet her mind, her body, her thoughts all went in the opposite direction. She looked to Lilith. She was silent, observing as she had done a million times before. Watching husband and wife as they circled one another.

Lilith met her gaze, stared at her curiously.

“What would you do?” Zelda turned to look at Faustus.

Faustus leaned his elbows against his knees. “I’d kill you if you’d done what I did. It would be reckless to keep someone alive who might threaten my leadership, who might kill my followers.”

She nodded, considered this.

“I don’t believe, however, that you have it in you.” A sly smile came over his lips as he regarded her in turn.

“And why is that?” Zelda’s voice broke as she spoke.

Faustus’ eyes came to meet hers. “You know why.”

Zelda’s hands balled into fists. “We used one another Faustus. That was all it was.” Her voice broke into a whisper.

“I suppose, then, that you should kill me.” Faustus resigned himself to his fate, carelessly.

“What’s the point? You have ruined your reputation by attempting to kill the coven. Any number of members may wish to kill you now and I shall not implore them to forget what you have done. To them. To me. Your fate rests not only in my hands but those you have affected.” Zelda brushed a lock of red from her eyes. “Where are Letitia and Judas? We will be taking them with us.”

Faustus acquiesced too easily, the flick of his wrist and a nursemaid appeared with the twins in her arms. She knew the babies were not some demonic mirage. The look in Faustus’ eyes – a certain resignation, a finality – hinted at this.

An apology.

Zelda could practically cry at the sight of them. Letty cried out, reached for Zelda. The baby had grown, her eyes no more shifted about aimlessly but latched on to Zelda, remembering her. Her fingers curled for Zelda, beckoned her closer and Zelda was helpless to not reach for the girl and wrap her up in her arms. A foolish tear escaped down her cheek as she held the baby away from her to look at the girl, to examine just how she had grown. “It’s alright, Letitia. Auntie Zelda is here now.”

Lilith took up Judas in her arms, held him close to her. Zelda was surprised by how natural it was for the demoness to take up the babe.

“You shall leave me in my own version of hell, then?” Faustus twirled an empty tumbler in his hand.

Lilith pressed her lips to Letty’s forehead, relieved to have the girl in her possession again. No hiding this time. A rightful taking. “If this is where you wish to remain, then so be it. But if you ever attempt to treat me – or anyone else for that matter – as you did…I will personally end you.” Zelda’s voice held a firm resolve, carried a strength she found growing gradually again inside of her.

They left Faustus – quiet, resigned, pensive.

Zelda felt his eyes upon her as they went. His gaze burned her.


	29. Chapter 29

Fingers danced across her scalp, played in her hair as Letty cooed in her arms, she was mesmerized by the enchanting dark eyes of her night-daughter. Letty’s curious hand reached out, grabbed for her breast. The fingers on her scalp stiffened momentarily.

“I think she’s hungry.” Zelda hummed, holding out her finger for Letty to grasp. She sat up, turning to face Lilith who cradled Judas in her arms. There was something erotic about her holding a baby, something unsuspecting and mildly arousing.

Zelda leaned forward, her undone hair falling over her shoulder, as she reached out to stroke Judas’ cheek. He opened his mouth, searching for a nipple. “He’s hungry as well. I’ll have to warm the bottles.” The strap of her slip fell down her arm. Lilith reached out, slid her fingers over Zelda’s porcelain skin, putting the burgundy strand of material back in place. Zelda inhaled, leaned forward to close the distance between them and pressed her lips to Lilith’s. Lilith responded to the kiss, pressed forward, wanting. Judas cried beneath them and they smiled against the other’s lips. Zelda pulled away, traced Lilith’s cheek with her hand, patted the skin lightly. 

Lilith followed Zelda to the kitchen with Judas in her arms, Letty in Zelda’s. Zelda tossed her hair over her shoulder and started up the stove to boil water. Lilith watched her, perched near to the island, playing with a juicy red apple which she lifted it to her lips and bit through its skin. Zelda watched Lilith’s motions as she prepared the formula, settling the bottles into the lightly boiling water.

Lilith beckoned her closer and Zelda came, obediently. Lilith held the apple to Zelda’s lips and she bit into its surface where Lilith had bitten.

Domestic, an attempt at playing house, aroused as they were.

Something had taken ahold of them upon returning to the present dimension.

An anger simmered below the surface, an arousal, a want.

But there were the babes to care for.

Zelda retrieved the bottles, tested the liquid on her wrist. Warm.

They retreated back to her bedroom, Lilith settling into the chair by the window, Zelda laying on the bed with Letty propped up upon pillows, suckling on the bottle which she could very nearly clasp in her own two hands and hold on her own. She had grown so much.

Lilith’s eyes were on Zelda as she ate her apple and balanced Judas in her arms.

Silence settled about them. The suckling of babies. Gazes finding one another’s and then slipping away.

“Say it.” Lilith finally breathed.

Zelda regarded her, met her fragile eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I could have…”

“Shh.” Zelda hushed, stroked Letty’s cheek. “It wasn’t your battle to fight.”

The room was enveloped in an uneasy silence.

“You liked it?”

Zelda rubbed at her forehead. She could not lie to her. There was too much trust burgeoning between them. An understanding. “Of course, I did.” Her voice was no more than a raspy whisper, she confessed to Letty’s innocent face instead of the first witch.

“It started when you were very young, didn’t it?” Lilith prodded.

“I don’t know what…” but she did know. Zelda took a deep breath. There was no use in denying it to Lilith. Her walls of denial were futile. Lilith would know, as she always knew. “That doesn’t have anything to do with Faustus. That…that has always been something else entirely.”

“But _he_ taught you to take pleasure in the pain.” Lilith pressed.

Forcing her to face her demons. She had healed, to a point. Her proclivities lived on. The thrashings, the beatings she had taken as a child – the invisible marks they had left. She recalled each and every one.

Zelda fell back atop the bed, a headache edging its way into her conscious. It seemed ridiculous to have pain now that the difficult task had been undertaken, completed. She had faced one demon, put him to bed.

But her body had not yet calmed down.

And this talk was doing little to ease her mind. She closed her eyes.

“My father taught me to atone for my sins. And somewhere along the way it became erotic to me.” She spoke blandly, as if it were natural to have been whipped and beaten for showing the promise that she had. If she outshone Edward, there was the whip. If she acted unfemininely, went against the grain, there was the belt. Then she began to accept the beatings, almost willfully, for any sin her baby sister might have committed. She wanted to protect Hilda from the ugliness of her father so she would always confess to Hilda’s blunders.

Hilda was her precious charge and she protected her at all costs, kept her young and innocent for as long as she could. Had probably protected her too well.

Zelda would never forget the beating she’d taken when her father had discovered her with her hand up Hilda’s skirt that hazy summer afternoon.

A tear slid down Zelda’s cheek. She wiped it away, turned to find that Letty’s eyes were growing heavy with sleep now that she’d finished her bottle. Zelda placed the empty bottle on the bedside table, wrapped Letty up in her arms and stood to rock her.

Lilith’s eyes stayed trained on her as she swayed hypnotically to an invisible beat.

Letty fell asleep easily and Zelda settled her into her bassinet, tucking her in. She moved instinctively to Lilith, taking Judas up into her arms and rocking him until he fell into an equally satiated slumber.

Lilith’s hands were on her hips as she tucked Judas into his bassinet. Zelda gasped, but was not surprised by Lilith’s sudden proximity. Lilith’s lips fell to her bare shoulder, her hand slid down Zelda’s back to cup the curve of her behind.

A sigh emitted forth from between Zelda’s lips as she straightened, turned to face Lilith. Lilith’s hands slid about Zelda’s waist, holding her close. There was a cut on Lilith’s upper lip. Zelda’s hand came to rest against her cheek, to run the pad of her thumb against the imperfection. Lilith kissed her finger. 

“You know, don’t you, that what he did…” Lilith whispered, threaded her fingers through Zelda’s hair.

Zelda nodded through fresh tears. “Naturally. I am a person of great intellect and therefore I know the intricacies of my past. Logically I do know that what he did....” Their lips came together, gently, ghosting over the surface, until Zelda’s head rolled backwards and Lilith’s lips devoured her. “I do not…” Zelda gasped as Lilith’s lips came against her throat. “I do not linger on how things might have been different. My past…my past is my past.” Zelda’s voice deepened, Lilith’s fingers pulling lightly at her hair, teeth grazing over her ear lobe. “It’s not pretty, it’s not…ideal, but it is. And I…I am me because of it.” Lilith’s lips covered freshly tear-stained cheeks, reverently.

And then Zelda felt her body lifted from the floor, legs coming to wrap about Lilith’s waist and she peered down into shining blue eyes, blinding, piercing like a clear summer day sky. Her fingers tangled in Lilith’s hair, lowering her head to kiss the demoness as she carried her effortlessly to the bed and laid her down.

Lilith came to rest between her spread legs, kissing her, bodies moving sensually together.

“Lilith.” Zelda whispered, aroused. Lilith looked at her, hand sliding down the inside of Zelda’s thigh as she did so. She pulled the raven-haired woman to her, their lips crushing together as fingers played over her wettened center.

She exhaled lavishly.

Lilith’s touch was warm, kind. The sensation of sun on a warm day, the contentedness from carefree afternoons, the earth after a rainstorm. Delicious and divine, millions of years racing before her eyes as she felt the power and great control and care that Lilith possessed. The hidden layers laid bare – what the woman had been, truly was beneath all that had happened to hide her away.

She had wanted to love and be loved in return.

But it no more mattered – to either – whether that love came from another or from themselves.

Zelda shifted into Lilith’s touch – wanting. Lilith’s hand moved like a balm over her, passed beneath the silk of her soiled underwear and then she was rubbing, hovering over Zelda’s face as their eyes peered at one another, saw the other for who she was.

It was not beautiful, nor perfect. It was an undoing. It was an acknowledgement of pain, of fear, of unworthiness that surfaced. And yet they did not look away from the other. Zelda clasped at Lilith’s face, held her so that neither could look away, wanting to ride it all the way to completion – this ugliness, the mess, the coming undone.

Lilith slipped inside of her and she felt it through every fiber of her being. Her legs wrapped tightly about Lilith, holding her close.

Her eyes fluttered closed momentarily but then she found Lilith again and again.

A refounding, a homecoming.

The orgasm that built inside of her surprised her with its force. She called out, clasped at Lilith’s back, her muscles tightened, dug her fingernails into Lilith’s back until she rode it out and collapsed with tears spilling out the corners of her eyes, crying, a release.

Lilith kissed her tenderly, rubbed her until her body settled, calmed. Her headache receded, disappeared.

“I never want…never want to be possessed…to belong to anyone ever again.” Zelda whispered.

“Zelda,” Lilith smiled, lowered her lips to kiss her forehead. “You belong to yourself. You always have.”

Zelda looked into Lilith’s eyes and saw the sadness there. “As do you.”

“No.” Lilith shook her head. “Not always.”

Zelda rolled so that she was atop Lilith, pining her to the bed, wrists trapped above Lilith’s head, red hair falling about Zelda’s face to frame Lilith’s. “But now…now.”

Lilith refused this.

“Lilith,” Zelda sobered momentarily. “Has anyone ever asked you what _you_ wanted in all of this?”

Lilith’s eyebrow rose.

“Do you…do you want to be the deity of a church?” Zelda ventured.

Lilith peered at Zelda’s heaving chest instead of meeting her eyes. “Zelda,” she whispered, her voice conveying exhaustion.

Zelda lowered her lips to meet Lilith’s forehead, to press at either side of her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, her jaw, the soft skin of her neck.

“I thought for years that I wanted to rule at Lucifer’s side. Now that he is diminished – I see the _religion_ for what it is.” Lilith spoke candidly.

“So, we create something new…” Zelda offered, buried between Lilith’s breasts. Mary Wardwell’s breasts. Her finger traced over the peak of one and it responded delightfully. Her mouth came to cover the nipple, sucking.

Lilith moaned, guttural, freely.

Zelda’s mouth continued downwards until she was between Lilith’s legs, undoing her garments to get to what it was she longed for.

And Zelda worshiped the demoness. Lavished her, tasting, taking, offering her the praise she richly deserved. She gave her back to herself with each stroke of her tongue, coating her fingers with Lilith, who held her fiery hair in her hands as she gave into Zelda’s movements.

A release.

Zelda crawling to the head of the bed to hold Lilith, to stroke the very human tears from her cheeks. An anointment, a blessing, a healing. Zelda’s fingers grazed over Lilith’s lips lazily. She flicked her hair from her warm shoulder, reached for her cigarettes. One-handedly she lit one and inhaled decadently, offered it to Lilith who took of the smoke.

An absolution.

They laid in bed smoking until Judas stirred, cried out and Zelda went to him.

They both heard the car in the driveway. Zelda went to the window with Judas in her arms to peer out.

It took her a moment to place the vehicle, unaccustomed as she was to seeing it. “But that’s…Dr. Cerberus.” She exclaimed, Lilith coming to stand beside her. “What is he…”

The passenger door opened and out stepped her darling sister. But then, to her surprise, Mary Wardwell appeared out of the back door of the vehicle.

Zelda’s laugh began deep in her throat. “The little minx! Having her cake and eating it too.”

“She is delectable.” Lilith purred.

“The both of them are.” Zelda agreed, watched as Dr. Cerberus came to stand before Mary Wardwell. The oddity store owner and principal of Baxter High leaned in towards one another and exchanged an awkward kiss which Hilda regarded anxiously. Then Dr. Cerberus looked to Hilda. Zelda watched as her sister laughed, pulled Dr. Cerberus to her to give him a proper kiss and then she stepped back to put an arm about Mary so that they could bid their male suitor adieu arm-in-arm.

Dr. Cerberus’ cheeks were bright red as he smiled between the ladies and bowed before getting into his car and driving back down the gravel to the main road. “He’s a nice man.” Zelda commented.

“I wonder how that sex demon is working for him.” Lilith ventured to query.

“Well I’m certain you could find out if it so interested you.” Zelda shot off as they heard the door to the house open and close downstairs. “I should…make myself more presentable, perhaps.”

“I don’t think they’d mind if you came down the stairs looking bedraggled and just fucked.”

“Don’t be vulgar.”

They descended the stairs together, put somewhat back together. Letty in Lilith’s arms and Judas in Zelda’s. They found Hilda and Mary in the kitchen, making tea and canoodling like two love-sick teens. And Lilith and Zelda watched, Zelda very interested in how her sister’s hand slid beneath Mary’s sweater – until Letty coughed, surprising everyone.

Mary jumped away from Hilda’s lips, her cheeks going bright red upon realizing that they’d had an audience.

“Don’t stop on account of us.” Zelda hummed, moving into the kitchen.

“Oh! Zelds. Oh! You got the babies.” Hilda – easily recomposed. - clasped her hands together, moved to look down at little Judas and then Letty. “Oh, how they’ve grown! They’re precious. May I?” And Judas was taken from Zelda and in Hilda’s arms in an instant. “Oh, Zelda.”

“Yes, home at last. Where they belong.”

Hilda met Zelda’s eyes, assessing. “And Faustus…”

Zelda brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Intact. For now.”

Hilda’s lips pulled into a smile. “I’m proud of you.”

Zelda smiled, pulled closer to her sister. They kissed before Zelda glanced up to take in Mary who hung back a bit confused. She would explain it all to her in time.

Hilda prepared a feast for them, a celebration of an uncomfortable accomplishment. And after dinner Zelda sat down next to Mary, lighted a cigarette which she offered to the schoolmarm. But Mary declined. “I don’t know why I started.”

Zelda laughed. “Hilda’s getting to you.”

Mary’s cheeks colored. “Perhaps.”

Zelda exhaled a cloud of smoke out the side of her mouth. “I wondered if you might like to venture out together one night. Just the two of us.”

Mary eyed her curiously.

“I feel that perhaps we got off on the wrong foot in the beginning. I’d…I’d like to get to know you. The real you.” Zelda pressed. “I know that I…well, I’m not the easiest person to get to know, but I suspect we might have some things of interest to discuss and I would like to…”

“Yes.” Mary shyly smiled, tucked an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes, I would like that.”

“Oh, good. Good.” Zelda smiled, pleased.


	30. Chapter 30

The edge of the newspaper bent down to reveal the all-knowing smug look of her niece, who calmly buttered her toast, eyes not even focused on her aunt as she spoke nonchalantly of witchcraft. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, Auntie, that perhaps the mortal world is not so opposed to the idea of witches as you think they are.”

Zelda’s eyebrow raised. “Need I remind you, Sabrina, that you, yourself, have encountered a witch hunter. That your lovely, doting little mortal boyfriend came from a long, long line of witch hunters. I do not think you quite grasp the dangers of revealing our craft to others.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes, as she was want to do when Zelda would dismiss her youthful musings – for they were born of ignorance, a lack of having lived in the world as Zelda had. For many, many more years than Sabrina had.

“All I’m saying is that things are different now.”

“Hatred and prejudice don’t just disappear overnight.” Zelda snapped the newspaper in her hands and returned to the article she had been reading about the stock exchange in China.

“But you don’t see, Auntie, that mortals are turning towards the occult, towards a spiritualism that’s different.”

Zelda let the newspaper fall atop the table, atop her plate with half-eaten biscuit. Hilda’s hand was at Sabrina’s shoulder – her attempt at warning her niece not to go too far. But it was too late for that. “Sabrina, there may be a collective awakening happening in the mortal world, and perhaps _some_ of them can sympathize with and attempt to understand our craft, but there are far more people in this world than those who are “awakening" – as they say. There are people grounded in the God-driven religions of long ago. They’ve lost the purpose and the magic and the complete understanding of what their religions once were - and it has certainly changed into something much, much worse. We live in a time where we could be ostracized, our safety could be compromised if we dared to trust the outside world. You may have found some mortal friends who you think you can trust with this knowledge, but I will tell you right now that those mortals are few and far between.”

Sabrina had pinned her with a look of utter-disgust and contempt. That Zelda could lecture her like she was. And oftentimes Zelda did feel she went overboard, but Sabrina could be so frustratingly dense…and optimistic.

“Don’t you think we have to learn to trust to start fixing things?” Sabrina finally spouted.

Zelda was amused by Sabrina’s forced self-control. She smiled, lifted her coffee cup to her lips, glanced at Hilda who was chastising her with her eyes. The girl was smart. Very smart, and very powerful, very strong-willed. But she did not know the realities of the world as Zelda had lived and breathed them for centuries.

“It’s a lovely thought, isn’t it?” Zelda hummed, picking up her biscuit and stirring it carelessly in her coffee, watching as the liquid absorbed into the cookie.

“I think it’s more than a thought, Auntie. We all know that the Church of Night no longer exists. Why can’t you admit it? Why can’t you see that we have to find a new way forward?” Sabrina stood from her seat, exasperated with Zelda.

Hilda’s eyes went wide, tried to calm Sabrina with a hand to shoulder, but the young girl yanked her body away from Hilda’s attempt at soothing.

Zelda’s face did not change, did not deign to acknowledge the all too true words Sabrina had just uttered. Instead she watched as the teen huffed and walked off, grabbing her backpack on the way out the door.

It was not until Sabrina was halfway down the driveway, the biscuit disintegrated into the brown liquid before her, that Zelda allowed herself to collapse, to place her head in her hands in defeat.

Sabrina had a point. A fair point.

And she was loathed to admit it and still very uncertain.

A heavy weight came to rest upon her shoulders. Not even Hilda’s calming hand could assuage her.

* * *

“I thought it might be nice to get away for an evening.” Zelda had breezily spoken as they sped across the town line.

They drove outside of Greendale, far, far away from all that was familiar to their day-to-day life. It had been far too long since Zelda had escaped, in a mortal way, from the confines of their town. It was as if she knew every little nook and cranny intimately and she was bored by it all. 

This was an excuse to escape.

It was liberating to drive down the Hudson, Mary timidly at her side.

Mary who had loosened her hair for the evening so that it was only tied back at the top but otherwise hung about her face. Her lips were painted an enticing shade of mauve, her cheeks flushed an equally pink color, and her simple deep green shirt and plaid skit seemed fitting. She smelled of a bouquet of freshly cut flowers.

Zelda rolled down her window at a traffic light somewhere near the city. She offered Mary a cigarette – which she took. Mary lighted it and passed it back to Zelda. Zelda, who had always found it deliciously luxurious to enjoy a smoke while driving somewhere. She was known to steal away at dusk to drive aimlessly and smoke and think. Now she was doing so with Mary and a little less aimlessly.

Mary rolled down her own window and lighted a cigarette for herself, leaning her head back against the headrest, exhaling a steady stream of smoke.

Zelda watched her out the side of her eyes. It felt like the first time Mary had breathed since Zelda had picked her up that evening. It seemed that without the aid of too many drinks and mind-altering substances they were having trouble finding their footing together.

Mary eyed Zelda, her blush deepening.

“You look beautiful this evening.” Zelda spoke off-handedly as she shifted the car into the next gear and glanced over her shoulder to check the traffic. It always got painfully worse closer and closer to the city.

She did not miss the way Mary self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and peered down at her lap. As if she did not deserve the compliment – when quite the opposite was true. Zelda had intimate knowledge.

And it was not only the woman’s body that Zelda admired. There was an intellect that simmered a fiery red in that gorgeous head of hers.

“Do I make you nervous?” Zelda dared to inquire as she wove expertly through traffic, clutching and releasing with ease, knowing the roads very well for having not made this particular journey since probably before Sabrina had been born.

“Nervous?” Mary’s voice broke and she cleared her throat. Laughed deep in her chest. “No, no…well, perhaps.”

Zelda smiled at this, delighted in at least breaking through one wall of the woman beside her.

They arrived in the village no later than seven and Zelda had the car parked, sweeping Mary down a dreamy old city street to a little restaurant she had come to years ago. It was dimly lit and intimate. They took a table, seated across from one another.

In lieu of the finely vintaged wine Zelda remembered from her previous visits, she ordered two sparkling waters with lime and the tasting menu for the both of them. “I hope that’s alright with you.” Zelda spoke after the waiter had gone off – realizing that she hadn’t let Mary speak a word nor decide for herself.

But Mary was staring at her admiringly. She toyed with the edge of her knife, smiling. “No one has ever ordered for me. Adam was always so very concerned about what it was I wanted, what my decision should be.”

“Shouldn’t that be a commendable trait?” Zelda looked at her curiously.

“Should be. But I must admit, it’s quite enticing having someone just take the reins and make decisions for me. I make enough of my own decisions on a daily basis.”

Zelda was delighted, transfixed by this woman. She realized she hardly knew the real Mary Wardwell.

It was somewhere between the seared foie gras and the scallop benedict courses that Mary relaxed into the evening. She looked more and more at ease in herself, with Zelda. Mary spoke freely of her life, her upbringing, how it was she had come to teach at Baxter High, how she had always known of the witches in Greendale.

“It’s a wonder you’re not put-off by the whole idea of witchcraft.” Zelda bristled, the conversation evoking her morning stand-off with Sabrina. How it was they had spared with one another – how Sabrina had made Zelda feel irrelevant, ignorant.

Mary smiled down at her plate, the look that Zelda had come to recognize as deep contemplation came to rest on her face. “Put-off? No. Fascinated more like.”

Zelda wanted, then, to know what it was Mary would think of the whole religious conundrum she found herself in. Somehow she just knew Mary would be the right person – with just enough outsider information and just enough insider knowledge. “Sabrina has been trying to convince me that mortals are more open to the idea of witches nowadays.” Zelda fiddled with her glass.

Mary thought about this for a moment. “She may have a point. The world is certainly changing at a rapid pace. The younger generations are not as willing to submit to the ideas of before.”

Was Zelda so very out-of-touch with reality? She read the newspapers. She knew that the world’s greatest religions prevailed, that her own fledgling religion was unwelcomed. Certainly, that had not changed so drastically? “But how could we trust that if we were to reveal ourselves, to try to live with the others, that we would not come under attack? We have lived in fear of witch hunters for years, as you are aware, persecuted for living true to our nature.” Zelda found herself expressing the anxieties she had not yet put to words, as if she had been needing to say them and only felt comfortable to do so with someone so far outside as Mary was.

Mary’s eyebrows rose at this. She looked down at her plate and then back up, lips poised as if she might say something but then closed her mouth again, contemplating.

The third course was cleared from before them, fourth course sat down in its place. It smelled delectable but the anxiety from Zelda’s thoughts dampened her appetite.

Mary’s hand found Zelda’s atop the table as if understanding; fingers played lightly, anxiously against Zelda’s in an attempt to console her. Zelda captured Mary’s ring finger between her pointer and middle fingers, looked at the finely weathered skin, the clear-glossed nails against the brilliant red of her own.

Mary looked up at Zelda, not pulling away from her. Seeming to be comfortable for the first time that evening. “There are countless numbers of people throughout history who have endured hardships, persecution, segregation…”

“Don’t you think I’m aware…”

Mary squeezed her hand, silencing her. “It still lingers, even today. None of those prejudices has just vanished into thin air. But you must feel that things are changing. What was once considered against the law, against nature has shifted and changed and come to be accepted as normal and natural.”

“You can’t possibly think that the good Christian people of this nation would suddenly welcome a sect of people who once worshiped Satan.”

Mary’s lip pouted prettily at this, as if understanding Zelda’s pain. “It isn’t fair, you know, to have to live hidden away, to keep your life secret.”

“And what would you know about this?” Zelda pulled her hand away, clasping her fingers together beneath her chin.

Mary tapped the table a few times with her fingers before picking up her fork and cutting into the delicate piece of roast lamb before her. “Isn’t it very obvious?” Mary’s eyes stayed downcast.

Zelda watched her, seeking the answer. But then she understood. “I forget the mortal world has such pretensions about that.”

Mary shrugged. “I once tried to tell Adam but he – he insisted that I would love him more in time. That when he came back from his time overseas that maybe the distance would “fix” me, but I knew…I knew it was more than not loving him enough.”

Zelda watched as Mary sat her fork and knife back down. “Perhaps we’re all persecuted for one thing or another.”

“It’s only the people who conform so well to what society has deemed normal who don’t seem to suffer. I sometimes feel they’re half-awake, just sleepwalking through life. I never…I never wanted to live that way.” Mary pushed her glasses back up her nose and met Zelda’s gaze.

Zelda was marveling at her dinner companion, pleased with her. She picked up her own fork and worked a piece of the lamb away from the bone. “You’re hardly asleep.”

Mary smiled at this and resumed eating. They had reached some level of understanding with one another. “Are you afraid of what your religion has become, of what you will have to do?”

Zelda considered this, feeling the all too familiar pang of unworthiness, distrust in herself, the lack of worthiness that encapsulated the present moment. She drank back her water, looked out the windows to the restaurant’s serene terrace. “Yes.” Her voice was no more than a whisper. She was terrified.

Mary did not push her further. Instead thought to change the subject to something she had more than likely been pondering for some time. “Have you ever noticed in literature or in film that women can only be portrayed as strong and capable or anything other than subservient to a man if they are depicted as a witch or possibly insane?”

Zelda laughed at this. “I had never thought of it before, but I suppose it is true.”

“If women dared to go against the idea of housewife and mother only a few years ago she would be thrown into the looney bin. It’s what I like and admire…about you, about your sister…even Lilith. None of you seem to care whether or not you’re married or fitting into some kind of mold. You simply exist, true to yourselves.”

“Not always so true. I’ve made plenty of mistakes.”

“But you were free to do so.”

“Ah, but not always.”

“Zelda,” Mary wiped at her lips. “You hardly give yourself credit for all you are capable of. I can see it…even in our nascent relationship.”

“You must not forget, though, that witches were still looked down upon by warlocks. It hasn’t been a walk in the park being a woman in the witching world either.”

“But you needn’t suffer now. Now is the time that things change.” Mary spoke wisely, intuiting just what it was Zelda needed to hear, to remember.

Zelda’s lips twisted upwards into a smile.

They took their final course of chocolate soufflés and coffee on the back patio of the restaurant, Zelda partaking in an after-dinner smoke, the taste of which only magnified the cacao and the rich coffee beans. They sat near to one another, their thighs brushing against the other. A drowsy warmness encircled them, Zelda felt a pleasant tingling sensation envelope her body – as if she had drunk something. Perhaps she was high on their intriguing and stimulating conversation.

“That brain of yours is certainly something.” Zelda ventured to speak, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the tepid city night air.

Mary smiled bashfully, her hair fell into her face. Zelda reached up to brush it away, curling her fingers about Mary’s ear. Her palm came to rest on Mary’s smooth, strong cheek. Mary pressed into her touch, turned her head ever so slightly so as to press her lips to Zelda’s palm, kissing her timidly.

“I find you so enthralling and I…” Mary’s voice was soft, embarrassed. “Ever since I saw you at Sabrina’s first school visit. With Hilda. I…”

“But that was so long ago!” Zelda laughed, let her hand fall away from Mary’s face. Their fingers brushed together.

“I know…you captivated me. I never…” Mary adjusted her glasses. “I never thought…”

“You’re darling.” Zelda smiled, feeling warm in a different way. Their heads shifted closer together, lips found one another in a brief, public lock. “I have tickets for _The Blue Angel_ at the Film Forum.” Zelda informed her as they parted, lifted her cigarette to her lips.

Mary’s eyes widened with glee. “How did you know of my love for Marlene?”

They sat in the darkened movie theatre like two teenagers – hands finally finding one another midway through the film. And for 124 minutes the outside world ceased to exist entirely. Zelda was lost in the world of the 1930s and Marlene Dietrich’s intoxicating sexuality and the feel of Mary’s hand in her own, the way Mary’s fingers stroked over the back of Zelda’s hand, and the feel of their thighs pressed tightly together, feet knocking into one another every so often.

And it was no surprise that when they finally made the drive back to Greendale and Zelda deposited Mary before her cottage – Mary invited her in for some tea and she accepted.

Knowing full well that tea was a pretense.

And Zelda had Mary with her back against the door in a matter of seconds, hands moving carefully, gently up that exquisite jawline, to cup her face, to bury her fingers in dark hair, tugging her closer so that their lips met, Mary warm and wanting as she moved unabashedly against Zelda’s thigh. She was not Lilith. She was more restrained with her body – until she wasn’t. No, she was not Lilith, but she was delectable in her own way and Zelda enjoyed the revealing of her, the loosening, coming undone.

“Take me to bed.” Mary whispered in the dark around them.

And Zelda did.


	31. Chapter 31

Her glasses slid down her nose as she turned the page. Searching. Seeking. Guidance in any form.

Praying was out of the question. Who would she pray to even if she wanted to? She had Lilith between her sheets often enough, paying homage to her but it wasn’t an answer – a solution.

They spoke in hushed voices in the early morning hours in the fog of too many smoked cigarettes between them. They revealed their fears, their hesitations, their questions, their proposals, arriving at nothing by the time Letty or Judas stirred before sunrise.

It felt like moving in circles aimlessly.

She turned the page of the Satanic Bible, eyes glazing over. The same Satan forsaken texts. The same words she had studied for millennia, meaningless and useless to her now.

With one disgusted, frustrated sigh she thrust the book off her desk and watched it flutter and smash into the hardwood floor, sliding away from her until it came to rest on the floor before the fireplace.

The fire blazed and crackled in the hearth of her office. Her eyes shifted towards its radiant glow.

Stuck. She felt stuck and useless.

Lifting the lid from her box of cigarettes she placed one delicately in her holder and lighted it. Sitting back in her chair she removed her glasses, pinched the bridge of her nose. Smoked. Glanced back towards the book. Watched it as if it might suddenly come to life, as if some sign would appear to her.

It simply laid there. As useless as before.

She left her cigarette smoking in an ashtray and got up. She crossed to the damned thing, lifting it from its spot on the ground. Her eyes fell to the words on the page.

_The Dark Lord came to protect those with innate powers who worshiped and served him. He taught to them the ways of the earth and the heavens and the bowels of hell. The exaltation of the sun, of the changing seasons, the stages of life: maiden, mother, and crone, and of exquisite death. His body was transformed into the hallowed Baphomet, the beginning and ending of us all. A representation of light and dark, animal and human, earth and sky, the four elements, as above, so below. His power reigns supreme among all and his will is to be served and exalted. _

She thought of Lucifer lying helpless in a cage of his own making. She thought of how pathetic he had become. She envisioned the way he must look if Lilith looked the way she did. He would be malnourished now, disfigured, broken, beaten. Lilith came to her after battles.

Though where Lilith only grew stronger, it appeared Lucifer weakened, was diminished.

It also occurred to Zelda in that moment, that the earth continued forward. Spinning as it always did. The sun rising and setting on time, the seasons shifting and changing – summer coming hot and fast towards them.

Without the Dark Lord presiding over them.

These words were simply words. This man, this fallen angel merely assigned to rule over the Church of Night, to give to the people something, _someone_ to worship.

But what did he know of being a maiden, of birthing a child, or growing old and wise? What did he know of the harmony and balance of nature – something that Hilda intuitively to understand so innately. The peace of working with her hands in soil, tending to the plants in the solarium. A real understanding of nature.

The Dark Lord was pain and indulgence and owning and mercilessly eradicating anything that stood in his way.

The fire blazed on.

Zelda fell to her knees before it, as if searching for something in its warmth.

Her hand clasped the edge of the page. Pulled. Watched as the page ripped clean from the bible and then flutter atop the blazing logs, catching fire and turning to ash.

The next page was removed just as easily and set on fire.

It became methodic, rhythmic. Ripping, releasing, burning. She watched, transfixed as her life, her beliefs went up in flames.

“Zelda.”

Her name came from somewhere off in the distance.

Ripping, tossing, flames, ash.

“Zelda.” She felt a hand on her hand, stopping her, a body wrapped about her own, holding her close. She realized tears were streaming down her face. “Zelda.” Hands cupped her cheek, broke her from her trance. “What are you doing?” Lilith’s face came into view. Lilith’s red lips pressed against Zelda’s forehead, holding her tight against her body. It felt taut and strong as it clasped Zelda.

“It’s all a lie.” Zelda whispered against Lilith’s neck, inhaling that familiar, comforting spicy scent of her companion.

“Shh.” Lilith ran her fingers through Zelda’s hair, rocked their bodies together.

“I want to burn it all.” Zelda dug her fingernails into Lilith’s body, frustrated.

Lilith nodded, took the remaining pages in their thick binding from Zelda’s tight grasp and with Zelda watching she tossed the entire thing atop the fire. Zelda watched as the inside pages went up in flames but the tough, old leather binding of the book took longer to ignite. Her eyes did not move, as if needing to witness it to the end, until every last piece of the book was burned into ash. Lilith holding her, stroking her hair as they both watched the dissolution of the Satanic Bible.

It was an ending.

Was there a beginning looming somewhere?

Zelda wrapped her arms about Lilith. “How can I protect them now?”

Lilith let her fingers trail over Zelda’s back. “You’re not responsible for everyone.”

“_Yes,_ I _am_.” Zelda hissed. “I’m the High Priestess.”

“And I am the Dark Lord’s mistress who longed to reign as the Queen of Hell.” Lilith whispered against Zelda’s forehead.

“So where does that leave us?” Zelda sighed, pressed her lips lazily against Lilith’s chest. “I wish you’d kill him.”

Lilith straightened in her embrace. “He’s weak.”

“End him.” Zelda’s hands grasped at Lilith’s hair.

“What good would it do?” Lilith groaned.

“We wouldn’t be in limbo anymore…we would…be…” Zelda fell mute. “It’s useless.”

Lilith brushed her lips against Zelda’s ear. “Do you remember the room?”

Zelda nodded.

“What did you feel there?”

Zelda closed her eyes. Tried to recall, to summon up the experience of the lost space and time, of floating and being surrounded by nature and calm. “Stillness. Ease. Assurance.” Zelda whispered.

“Yes.” Lilith agreed. “We can have that here.”

“How?” Zelda looked up at Lilith.

“We can teach them what it is to experience the calm.”

Zelda met Lilith’s gaze. Stared into her eyes.

“It can’t be so…easy….” Zelda whispered. “It can’t…wha…what about the demons, the darkness?”

Lilith stroked Zelda’s cheek. “Have you ever realized, darling, that the demons we summon are the very things we fear the most?”

Zelda’s lips parted to protest but found that as she traced through her memory the demons whom had appeared to her had always come from an inside fear. They had left her breathless and on edge, haunting her in just the ways she had feared most, taking from her, torturing her in all the ways that made her feel unsafe and frightened.

And since Lucifer’s downfall – there had been no demons. As if they had all just vanished.

Not one gruesome creature had shown his or her face.

They seemed absent.

Lilith smiled, wiped at Zelda’s tears. “Yes, perhaps they never existed at all.”

“But I…”

“I have come to learn, Zelda, in my many years on this planet, that things only exist if we allow them to.” Lilith brushed back Zelda’s hair from her cheeks, pressed her lips to the corner of her lips.

Zelda was silent. Contemplative. Allowed Lilith to kiss her.

“Come on. Let me take you home. Hilda's worried about you and Mary’s there – anxious to see you.” Lilith was standing, was reaching her hand out for Zelda, pulling her up and against her.

* * *

The house was quiet. Save for the final dying embers in the fireplace.

Ambrose and Sabrina had gone away, the twins tucked into bed, sound asleep.

A hand reached lazily towards the cigarettes, lighting one. Another hand reached to take the cigarette. Smoke billowed, passed from lips to lips. A hand passed between legs, pausing to rub, sensitive. A gasp, lips to a swollen breast.

Zelda found Hilda’s eyes, pulled her sister’s face into her hand, stroked her cheek. She brought their lips together, catching sight of Lilith as she cupped Mary’s breast, her blood red nail passing over the swollen nipple, Mary’s eyes found Zelda’s as she did so. Mary cradled Lilith’s head, let her inhale from the cigarette between her fingers and then Lilith was urging Zelda’s legs apart.

She forced her to shift, to lift so that she could taste her, exhale a cloud of smoke against her and Zelda settled atop her face, placing her hands on Hilda’s shoulders to steady herself. Zelda pressed a kiss against Hilda’s ear, gasping against it as Lilith worked her tongue against her dripping center. She was pleasantly sore. Her fingernails sunk into Hilda’s soft, gentle flesh. Her hands moved to cup Hilda’s ample chest, lowering her head to suck a taut nipple between her teeth, taking her time, moaning against Hilda’s skin.

Mary’s hand circled about Hilda, adorably possessive. Clinging to Hilda, as she held the cigarette in her other hand. Zelda’s eyes met with Mary’s over Hilda’s shoulders. Mary inhaled the cigarette and Zelda leaned forward. The smoke billowed from Mary’s lips to Zelda’s until they were kissing. Mary’s hand moving between Hilda’s legs as Zelda’s hand reached down to cup Mary’s bottom, pulling her closer.

Someone was panting, someone was moaning in spurts of building pleasure.

An image came to Zelda. The image she had seen before. A vision.

She was near the edge, finding it hard to grasp onto the meaning of it, to the understanding of what it could lead to.

It came to her conscious in and out of focus.

Until Lilith flicked her tongue in just that certain way and it sent her over the edge, rolling away from the deity, away from Hilda and Mary who shifted, Hilda falling over Lilith, calling out from her own release. Lilith caught Hilda, held her as she orgasmed, pressing her soiled lips against Zelda’s thigh.

It took Zelda a moment to recover, to take the cigarette from Mary and then urge Mary’s lips against Lilith’s, delighting in knowing that Lilith tasted of her. Watching as Mary let her tongue trace around Lilith’s lips.

She turned, finding Hilda resting beside her. She exhaled a stream of smoke away from her sister, turned to kiss her, to admire her.

And she felt a hand on her side, stroking her shyly so that she turned to find Mary looking at her, wantonly.

Their bodies fell together like waves crashing against the sand. Moving effortlessly, fluidly until there was nothing more to give.

The night was growing light, a new day approached. A new beginning was upon them.

Zelda smoked a cigarette lazily in the morning light. Watching the even rise and fall of Mary’s chest as she slumbered, took note of the way her sister’s soft blonde hair glimmered, all splayed out atop Mary’s breasts.

Lilith’s hand came to rest atop Zelda’s, to take the cigarette from her.

Zelda turned, watched her inhale. “What shall it be? A religion built upon sex?” She asked, her voice hoarse and gravely in the early morning hour.

A smile curled on Lilith’s lips. She laughed low and deep. “Perhaps.”

They were silent.

Zelda took back the cigarette.

“Perhaps a religion based upon freedom of self-expression. Of exploring all realms without limit.” Lilith glanced to Zelda. “You would want that for Sabrina and the twins, wouldn’t you?”

Zelda nodded. “Yes.”

The sun peeked through the blinds, casting light across Mary’s peaceful sleeping face. Hilda snuggled deeper into her.

“Our suffering has served to strengthen them. To free them.” Zelda whispered.

Lilith smiled as she took the cigarette. “We’re all free now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading along! I know this story was not so wildly loved and received as the other and I dared to do some things that were not so popular amongst many of you, but I hope that even if you have been reading and not commenting that you enjoyed this story in the end. I'd love to hear if you did. 
> 
> I am going to end it here...a little open-ended (even though I hate ending on odd numbered chapters...but maybe that's just how it should be...). Which I kind of like. It kind of makes sense in a way and we shall see what happens on the actual show (and let's be honest it won't be anything like this!).
> 
> Thanks again for those who stuck with me to the end and thanks especially to KatyaTrixie for literally inspiring me to keep going and finish this up! You're marvelous and I'm so appreciative! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I'm not certain if this will updated as quickly as my other story was, but...well it seemed to want to come out. So please let me fascinate and confuse you. :)


End file.
